


The Comeback Kid

by nightmares06, ObsessConfess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big!Jared, Big!jensen, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Impala, Shrinking, Tiny!Impala, Tiny!Sam, big!Dean, big!Sam, demon, imp, shrink, size swap, size!fic, size!kink, tiny!Dean, tiny!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 58,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmares06/pseuds/nightmares06, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessConfess/pseuds/ObsessConfess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a case out in California,  troubles afoot when Sam falls asleep in the Impala and Dean comes out to find his baby - and his baby brother - a little... different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Turlock, California:_  
  
It was barely half past eleven at night in the modest police department. Most desks were empty, the holding cells quieted down for the evening. But interrogation room 1A was the place to be for the majority of the late-night staff. A rookie patrolman trudged out to the break room to refill his yellow coffee mug while four other officers remained gathered in the observation room on the other side of the two way mirror. Inside the interrogation room, a blinding block of fluorescent light illuminated a middle aged sergeant sitting across the table from a curvy woman with hair that seemed to have multiplied in curliness due to stress.  
  
“Mrs. Ellis, let me run through the facts with you one more time, just to be sure we’re on the same page here. I understand you’ve had a rough evening, but… please be honest.”  
  
“I’m not lying, you moron! You’re not listening to me!” the woman shrieked hoarsely, slamming her hands on the table.  
  
The officer set his notepad aside and rubbed his temples wearily. Anymore of this nonsense and he might as well take up a post on Sesame Street.  
  
The armored door buzzed open and a patrolman held it open. Two broad men in suits stood behind him. The sergeant raised his head inquisitively.  
  
“Give it a break, Sarge. Insurance investigators are here,” the patrolman announced.  
  
The sergeant gave Mrs. Ellis’ face one last look before happily gathering his things and vacating the interrogation in favor of a nice, long coffee break. The man with close cropped blonde hair brought over the spare chair from the corner and took a seat next to his partner.  
  
“Gina Ellis? I’m Tom Wyatt, this is my partner, Neil Erikson,” the blonde introduced them right off the bat. Gina was pleasantly surprised by the lack of derision in his smile. “I understand someone broke into your house?”  
  
She watched Neil take out a memo pad and pen, all business about him.  
  
“That’s not all they did,” she muttered, then frowned at them. “I uh… I didn’t call my insurance company…”  
  
“We don’t take chances with our favorite customers.” Tom flashed her a charming smile, folding his hands on the table. “Why don’t you tell us what happened.”  
  
She fluttered slightly under his charm. “I, uh… well it’s kind of hard to believe.” She shot a glare over at the officer. Her frizzy hair bobbed when her head jerked. “I was just putting away the groceries, and something seemed… off about my room. I noticed a few little items missing… then when I went into the living room, there was this strange feeling… like walking through molasses.”  
  
Neil scribbled away in his memo pad. “Did you feel anything else when that happened… like a cold spot, for instance?”  
  
“No, nothing like that. But then it was like everything went inside out, and I found myself somewhere… else.” She rubbed her arms, smoothing down the hairs.  
  
"You were drugged?" Tom suggested.  
  
Gina shook her head adamantly. "No, nobody touched me. I would've remembered."  
  
She took a steeling breath, gathering the courage to once again come to terms with her bizarre reality. Gina glanced over at the guard, then leaned in close over the table. "Fellas, I think I got lost in Kim Kardashian's closet."  
  
For the first time, the men's confidence flickered. Tom blinked and gave her a strange look. "Did you say Kim-"  
  
"Kim Kardashian, yeah. You should see the number of shoes she owns- good Lord that woman has more pumps than people living in Montana."  
  
The men exchanged dubious looks at length. Seeing their doubt made her will double in an effort not to lose their interest too.  
  
"So... you were kidnapped, then," Tom said reluctantly.  
  
Gina nodded. "I was walking around for at least three hours... It didn't seem real." She shivered. "And that laughter kept following me around."  
  
"Did you get a look at your kidnapper?" Tom asked.  
  
She shook her head. "Never saw his face."  
  
Neil squinted his eyes at her thoughtfully. "The laughter... did you recognize it?"  
  
"No, no." She furiously shook her head, making her curls fly into disarray. "Never heard anything like it in my life. It was... weird. High pitched, sometimes childish... sometimes more... eerie... and the worst... was when it came from right over my shoulder. Like someone was there, but when I looked, there was nothing at all." She folded her hands on her lap to keep them from twitching while she talked, interlacing the fingers. A chill went up her spine at the memory.  
  
"So you were in there for three hours... do you remember how you got out?" Neil held her gaze with wide-eyed concern, giving her hope that he, at least, believed her.  
  
Gina held tight to his attention, feeling the spark of hope ignite within her that maybe she wasn't suffering from a sudden mental breakdown.  
  
"A mouse hole,” she muttered. "The laughter it... it kept getting louder. I couldn't take it anymore. I went for the first opening I saw in that maze and got the hell out of there. Next thing I know, I'm waking up face-down on the floor of my living room."  
  
"That's a pretty big mouse," Tom remarked with the crooked smile of a man trying to crack a joke. Gina pursed her lips and looked away uncomfortable. His smile dropped.  
  
"Uh...right. At any time during all this did you smell sulfur?" Tom asked.  
  
The guard gave the blonde investigator a strange look, but bit his tongue.  
  
"Sulfur?" she echoed. "Isn't that near volcanoes or something?"  
  
"Has the common odor of rotten eggs. More common with these things than you think,” he replied easily.  
  
Gina frowned, racking her brain. "I can't remember. I'm so sorry. Everything else is so clear to me but I wasn't thinking about what he smelled like..."  
  
"That's alright, ma'am." Tom exchanged a look with Neil, coming to the silent conclusion that they were finished here. "Well it certainly seems like your claims will go through. We'll be in contact within the month. Thanks for your time, Mrs. Ellis."  


* * *

  
Sam frowned down at the scrawled notes he had laid out on his lap. "This case is weird," he muttered as he glanced through everything. He grabbed a few sheets, leafing through. "Laughter that follows you, an invisible stalker, a mouse hole bigger than Gina... oh, and don't forget that this all took place in Kim Kardashian's closet, just to top it all off." His eyes flicked up to Dean. "Is any of this making sense to you?"  
  
"Sure, if she was strung up." Dean heaved a frustrated sigh. "But, the tox report came out clean. So that leaves us at square one."  
  
He flicked on the blinker and pulled into the grand entrance of the Motel 6 they had settled on. The exhaustion seemed to kick in the moment Dean shut off the engine.  
  
"It's not just desserts, so probably not trickster. Djinn suck you dry once they've got a hold on you. Honestly, I think the woman's off her rocker. Just your run-of-the-mill crazy."  
  
  
"Yeah." Sam stifled a yawn into his shoulder, eyes growing heavy. He'd spent the whole day staring at reports and computer screens so far, and he honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He blinked at the motel that came into view. For a moment he'd forgotten they were still driving. He'd been completely absorbed in the research. "You getting us a room?"  
  
"Yeah. We'll get out of here tomorrow morning."  
  
Dean left the keys in the ignition as he got out of the car. He stole a glance over his shoulder at his brother's sleepy expression and had to bite back a chuckle. Even after all these years, nothing knocked Sam better than a little drive around the block.  
  
"You staying for the month?" The clerk at the desk could not be rushed. For the heart of California, this town sure had an Old-South pace about it.  
  
"No, just the night." Dean answered, handing over a credit card under the name Jake Klifferman.   
  
The clerk gave him a look over her wire rim spectacles. "Just make sure your lady friend cleans up after herself. Sign here."  
  
Dean scrawled the fake signature onto the receipt. "Uh no, it's not like that. It's a family thing."  
  
"Uh-huh." The clerk rolled her eyes and took her time about finding him the proper room key. Finding the key identified as room 108, she passed it off and collapsed back into her rickety seat.  
  
"Thanks," Dean muttered.  
  
He supposed it could have been worse- she could have assumed that  _he_  was the night entertainment, like that drunk waitress from Ohio. Once he reached the edge of the sidewalk Dean stopped short, a deep frown dropping onto his face.  
  
_This_  was worse: the Impala was gone.  
  
He paced up and down the entire line of cars, double checking that the dark hadn't been playing tricks on him. Coming back in front of the empty space, Dean held out his arms in confusion, walking onto the parking space as if the impala might merely be invisible. It had been right here! What on earth would possess Sam to drive away like that? And where had he gone?  
  
"Dammit, Sam,” he hissed under his breath. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed the number he knew by heart.  


* * *

  
Sam squirmed in the seat, trying to get comfortable in the small area. The fog of exhaustion fell over his mind while he waited for Dean to get back, drifting in that twilight realm between sleep and waking. He had no real idea how long it'd been since his brother had left to get them a room. He was slowly tipping further into sleep when he heard it.  
  
Laughter.  
  
It teased his brain, staying in the far corners of his mind. Not malicious laughter, but the unrestrained laughter that comes to you in a moment of pure happiness. Sam's lips twitched in his sleep, momentarily disturbed.  
  
At last it faded, leaving him alone in his mind once again. The peacefulness of the moment drew him farther away from wakefulness as time passed by.  
  
It wasn't long before his sleep was once more disturbed. This time a rumbling built up from the ground, shaking both the Impala and her one passenger. Sam groaned, trying to focus his sleep deprived mind back to alertness.  
  
He sat up in his seat. Was that an earthquake? It came again, shaking the keys in the ignition.  
  
"Dean?" he managed to mumble, rubbing his eyes. They snapped open the second he got a good look outside.  
  
The motel was gone.  
  
Before he could properly digest that fact, he spotted the source of the earthquake - a huge wall was coming right at the Impala.  
  
_Wait, that's not a wall... that's... boots..._  
  
Sam dove for the ignition at the same time as his phone started ringing, desperate to get the car out of the path of the boots. Ignoring the phone in favor of the more urgent problem of he and the Impala's imminent crushing, he practically punched the horn, blaring it at the same time as he turned the car on.  
  
Sam slammed the car in reverse right as the enormous boot - a huge wall of leather and rubber nearly twice as long as the Impala itself - hesitated in midair, bare seconds from crushing them both. Heart in his throat, Sam hit the gas, tires screeching as he backed out from under it, swerving on the thick, bumpy ground that had replaced the smoother asphalt that he remembered Dean parking on earlier.  _Dean's gonna kill me if I ruin his car,_  popped inanely into his head. He pushed away those thoughts. Dean couldn't kill him if he got crushed first.  
  
_Dean, where are you..._  
  
Whipping the car around, a rumble shook the car when the boot hit the ground behind the Impala. He switched into drive, flooring the accelerator. At the back of his mind, he realized his phone had stopped ringing, most likely gone to voicemail.  
  
His thoughts were pulled away when the car shook again. His breath hitched with sudden fear as he glanced out the rearview mirror, afraid of what he'd see.  


* * *

  
"Sam. Cut the crap and get back to the motel. If this is--"  
  
Dean gasped, a deep yelp escaping him as a tiny, angry sounding horn sounded out underfoot. A toy car sped out from the shadow of his next step. His balance wavered, the suddenness quite nearly knocking him flat on his ass.  
  
Voicemail abandoned, Dean's eyes bugged out in utter bewilderment as he watched the little thing speed towards the end of the parking space. Without thinking, he lunged towards it, grabbing it before it could get into the middle of the lot. No more than seven inches long from bumper to fender, Dean's hand easily wrapped around the top of the car and over the side windows. He was halfway wondering what idiot kid was playing with a remote control car this late at night when he caught sight of the license plate:  **KAZ - 2Y5**.  
  
"What?" Dean mumbled, eyes racing over every detail of the car...  _his_  car. He knew every detail of the precious vehicle like he knew the freckles on his face. What the hell was a miniature version of his baby doing out here?  
  
The tiny tires smoked as it desperately tried to accelerate out of his grip. The acrid smell of burning rubber wafted up. He frowned, spotting movement through the back window. Something was in there. Dean hastily shut his phone and pushed it into his pants pocket.  
  
With his newly freed hand, he whipped out a penlight, shining it through the back window. A tiny silhouette in the front seat cringed as the light hit it. Dean's heart leapt in his chest, time seeming to stand still as he shifted on the ground to pick up the tiny car and turn it around. There was no way there was actually someone driving this mini-Impala, except maybe Papa Smurf.  
  
Dean leaned in close and angled the light in through the driver's side window. The tiny face was illuminated as the white light shone in. A green eye dilated outside the window, widening with horror. In a split second, he had dropped both car and penlight in his shock, scrambling backwards in a kneeling position to distance himself.  
  
_No fucking way._  He breathed heavily for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest as he came to terms with what he’d witnessed. When the car didn't disappear, Dean cautiously lowered himself back to the ground, his cheek practically against the asphalt to level himself with the tiny car.  
  
A pair of minuscule, equally horrified hazel eyes peered out from the window, solidifying this nightmare into reality.  
  
"Sam," Dean croaked.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam pushed down on the accelerator, wishing for the first time the Impala was faster. Most days he bitched about how fast Dean drove, but right now he'd give anything for  _twice_  that speed.  
  
The massive boots behind him stumbled, shaking the car and the tiny passenger. He caught sight of two colossal legs, clad in worn denim arcing up past the boots, and he didn't even want to think about the rest, stretching up into the sky.  
  
 _Where the hell am I?_  
  
The car rocketed over the bumpy black ground, tires finding purchase against the strange texture. For a few seconds of peace, he thought he might have escaped, that whatever it was out there would let him get away and get to  _safety_. His sleep-deprived mind went through a fast list of priorities... find Dean, find out where the hell he was, get back to reality. Wherever  _that_  was. As if anything in his life was ever that simple.  
  
The car shook again, and his eyes widened when he saw the massive boots lunge towards the car out of nowhere. They easily cleared all the ground he'd covered in seconds, slamming down next to the Impala. Something huge shadowed over the windows, and with a sudden jerk, the car stopped. The seat belt he'd hastily thrown on barely caught him in time, keeping his head from slamming into the wheel.  
  
Recovering, Sam glanced around the almost pitch black interior. Something huge was pressing against the windows, blocking off the outside. All he could see out of the back window was a huge wall of denim, pressed against the ground. A tiny bit of light shone through the windshield, enough for him to make out...  _fingers, that's fingers, some _thing's_  got hold of the Impala..._ and considering that whatever had him in its grip had almost crushed him and the car already, he felt a surge of determination fill him. Sam pulled himself back to the wheel, slamming down on the gas. He needed to focus.  _Gotta get away, gotta find Dean..._  
  
Tires screeched as whatever had him in its grip held the car there, effortlessly stopping their escape. Burning rubber filled the air in desperation. He heard a voice outside exclaim in surprise, loud enough to rumble straight through Sam.  
  
He flinched down, suddenly blinded. A huge spotlight shone into the back window, illuminating the interior of the car. Sam tried to catch a glimpse of whatever had captured him and the Impala, but couldn't make out anything past the glaring light. He could, however, now make out the massive fingers wrapped around the windows, each easily thicker than his entire body. Sam jerked away from the driver's side window in shock at the sheer size.  _What the hell?!_  
  
His train of thought died off as the light went away and the fingers readjusted on the car. The front of the car briefly dipped down as they were lifted, easily hauled into the air by a hand longer than the entire car. Sam's stomach did flip-flops as the ground dropped away, for more reasons than just the height (though considering how high up in the air they were, it might be better Dean wasn’t in the car).  
  
Sam let up on the gas, knowing he was just wasting effort and gas while they were suspended in the air. The car turned swiftly around, the giant outside handling it like a small toy. The Impala's headlights illuminated a huge wall of blue fabric in front of them for a few seconds before Sam was again blinded by the spotlight, this time through the driver's side window. He flinched away, trying to throw his hands up to block the blinding light.  
  
His eyes didn't have time to adjust before all of a sudden, the car dropped, slamming back down to the ground. Thrown to the side by the unexpected motion, Sam moaned as he pulled himself back up in the seat. His arm ached from the awkward landing.  
  
The ground trembled again, shaking him and knocking his head against the back of the seat. Hesitantly, he peered out the window. The giant, or whatever the hell was out there waiting for him, had pulled a few dozen feet away, enormous hands on the ground for support. Next to the car was a long, silver tube, with a light shining out of one end, illuminating more of the dark, bumpy ground. In the area lit up by the shining light, Sam could see that the black ground switched to a familiar yellow a little over a dozen feet away. His mouth went dry when realization hit. He hadn't been transported anywhere...  
  
And if that was true...  
  
A massive hand landed a few feet away from the driver's side door. Sam flinched back at the size - it was easily longer than the Impala itself, and the fingers were bigger than Sam. Their appearance displayed exactly how helpless he would be if the car was grabbed again, making his breath catch in his throat.  _Completely helpless…_  not a familiar feeling for Sam. He was used to being able to  _do_  something to help himself, but not even the Impala was fast enough!  
  
A shadow moved in the darkness past the light on the ground as something huge lowered into sight.  
  
A landscape of skin and stubble flattened against the ground, suddenly snapping into familiarity when he caught sight of the huge, panicked eye that peered into the car, barely level with the window while pushed against the ground.  
  
Dean.  
  
His brother was a giant.  
  
 _No, that can't be right..._  Sam remembered the strange ground, the familiar yellow stripe the car was parked near... His eyes widened in realization.  _He's not a giant, I'm tiny.  
  
Fuck._  
  
All these thoughts passed through his head in seconds. He saw the massive mouth crack open... Sam couldn't help flinching away at the sight, instinctively afraid of something that could eat him, no matter that it was just his brother. His brother wasn’t supposed to be bigger than the Statue of Liberty.  
  
A deep voice drowned his thoughts out, familiarity overshadowed by the sheer volume. "Sam." A tone of shock, disbelief, horror hit him, like a solid wall of sound.  
  
 _Dean, it's just Dean..._  Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Sam forced himself to meet Dean’s gaze and cautiously rolled down the window. His breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of the rest of Dean's body, stretching away into the night. It was unreal how immense Dean was. How  _small_  Sam and the Impala were...  
  
He leaned slightly out the window, calling up, "D-Dean... is t-that you?"  
  
Sam couldn't wipe the fear from his voice, shaking in time with his body while he tried to reassure himself. It didn't help much. His instincts were begging him to floor the gas again, get away, get to  _safety._  Escape from someone big enough to step on him and the Impala both without even noticing… the memory of how close it had been flashed through his mind, forcing to light the danger he was in even now. The Impala wasn’t even the size of a  _boot._  
  
Dean was positively nauseous. If his hand hadn’t been held flat against the ground, it would have been shaking. Getting hitched to a vampire sounded more likely than Sam  _shrinking_.  
  
"Yeah. I'm the real deal," Dean confirmed. His hot breath fogged up the back window. "What... what the hell happened to you, man?" he whispered.  
  
A few seconds of the hapless look he got in return told him that he wasn't going to be getting an answer to that just yet. He rolled away slightly, checking their surroundings again for any sign of an intruder lurking nearby. But even with his honed tracking skills, Dean was picking up on nothing- human or not.  
  
Looking back at Sam was as jarring as the first time, twisting the knot in his stomach mercilessly.  Sam was so small, he could probably curl up into a matchbox with no trouble. Dean hadn't even seen him...  
  
 _Oh god, I almost smushed my own brother._  
  
"Gotta get you outta the open," Dean muttered with a new determination. They could figure out what the hell was going on once they were behind closed doors. "You better, uh... hang onto something."  
  
There was an undeniable care in his touch when he wrapped his hand around the Impala again. His thumb planted just below the window on the driver's side. With one last nod at Sam, Dean stood up. He cradled his second hand under the tires as long as he could during the brisk walk to the motel room, not wanting to rattle Sam around anymore than he undoubtedly already was.  
  
Impatient, Dean jammed the motel room key into the lock. After one last paranoid glance around the night for any spectators, the blonde hunter ducked into the lit room and locked the door behind him.  
  


* * *

  
Sam leaned away from the window as Dean talked, a hot breeze hitting him and the Impala with every word spoken. His mouth was ash, unable to bring himself to respond to Dean's loud words. He stared up when Dean trailed off into a question, realizing he was supposed to respond. No words came to him, his mind trapped replaying the horror he'd just gone through. Waking up, almost getting stepped on by boots bigger than the car, helplessly held in a hand stronger than all the Impala's horsepower. All he could do was stare at Dean, wishing he would wake up from this nightmare.  
  
His mind came back to him briefly, enough for him to remember to switch the car into park, letting the engine idle. While doing this, he realized his arm ached from when he'd been tossed against the door when Dean had dropped the car. Rubbing it, his eyes widened when Dean moved, pulling his face off the ground and looming over the Impala once more. Dean’s movements were so large, so  _alien_ , Sam almost couldn't comprehend them. His entire world was slipping away from him, surrounding him instead with a dangerous and alien landscape.  
  
The huge hunter above him stared around the parking lot, intense eyes taking in the surroundings too dark and distant for Sam to make out. He couldn't help jumping when those huge eyes turned back down to him, freezing him in their stare. The look in them still held as much panic as Sam felt, for a situation neither of them was prepared for.  
  
His brother's voice came again, a much softer tone that Sam was inordinately grateful for. Everything was so loud now... Even Dean's footsteps. He shied away from that thought, remembering how close he'd come to bring crushed under those feet not so long ago. "Gotta get you outta the open," Dean muttered down at him thoughtfully.  
  
Sam froze at the way Dean was talking - not giving him a choice in the matter.  _Still, it's not like you want to sit out in the open, waiting for someone else to come along. And you can't really get yourself outta here at this size, can you?_  
  
Dean finished his thought. "You better, uh... hang onto something."  
  
Before Sam realized what was happening, that huge hand was reaching for the Impala again. This time instead of the quick and dangerous grab from earlier that had almost sent Sam flying through the windshield, the powerful fingers slowly wrapped around the car, almost lovingly caressing the slick black exterior of the Impala. A huge thumb rested right below the open window Sam was sitting next to, careful to not dent the metal. "Holy crap," Sam muttered below Dean's earshot, staring at the deep ridges covering the thumb. He could sink his fingers into them if he wanted to.  
  
Sam grabbed the wheel as Dean put action to words, standing to his full height with the Impala held in his hand. Eighteen feet of car lifted up, as easy as a toy. Sam’s stomach dropped when he saw how high in the air they were being held, suspended helplessly a hundred feet above solid ground. He twisted around in his seat, breath catching in his throat at the behemoth flannel wall rising up beside him higher still, like a skyscraper. He could even make out all the knobs and threads on it from being worn so many times, too small to see before today.  
  
The other hand came up beneath the car, letting the tires rest on the ridged and callused skin below. Sam closed his eyes at the realization of how small he was, trapped between two hands bigger than the car itself. _But it's Dean_ , he reminded himself.  _He just wants to keep you safe. Not trapped - safe. You’ll be fine._  
  
Without another word, Dean started walking with them sandwiched in his hands like that. Sam's heart jumped as he felt the huge footsteps echo up from the ground, shaking everything in the car. The same footsteps he'd almost been crushed under earlier. He unconsciously tightened his grip against the wheel again, glad to have the seatbelt holding him in place through the sharp vibrations.  
  
The footsteps were fast - brisk. Dean was in a hurry to get out of sight with them. Thankfully. Sam didn’t want to see another giant while he was like this. The outside world flew by at an almost blinding speed. Sam caught a brief glimpse of another car, huge beyond imagining before Dean stepped up onto the sidewalk, shaking the Impala and its passenger from the movement.  
  
The motel came into view at last, making Sam realize the only reason he hadn't been able to see it before was because of his new size - it must have been too distant to make out in the darkness that surrounded them. Doors passed by too fast for Sam to read the numbers. A slight nausea rose in him at the speed they were traveling, and the lack of control he had over any of it.  
  
The dizzying trip finally ended with Dean pausing in front of an immense door at the end of the hallway. He caught sight of tall gold numbers on the door - room  **108**. The hand that had been under the car dropped away unexpectedly, the other tightening its hold on the tiny car. A moment later the other hand appeared again, holding a large key between the fingers. Dean quickly opened the door, shoving his way in. Sam was unexpectedly slammed into the side of the Impala once more when Dean twisted around to click the deadbolt in place. A surge of pain sliced through his arm, ratcheting up the pain a few more notches. He couldn’t help but grab the arm to try and cushion it against further damage.  
  
A few moments later, the car was gently placed down on the table, the huge hands drawing away. A shadow fell over the front windshield as Dean leaned down, peering in with worried eyes. Sam pulled himself back up in the seat, favoring his hurt arm. He fearfully met his brother's huge greens.  
  
Sam realized he had no idea what to do. Or how to handle a brother the size of a mountain.  _What kind of case is this, anyway?_  
  
Dean felt naked without his bag and car keys to set down after strolling inside. But the keys were still in the ignition, and his duffel bag was still in the backseat... leaving them entirely minuscule and useless to him. Even though Sam was the one out of place, it was hard not to feel like a giant when everything familiar to him was smaller than his hand.  
  
Steadying his shuddering breaths, Dean took a seat in front of the miniaturized car and stared it down.  
  
"You wanna come out of there?" It didn't occur to him what a monumental thing he was asking Sam to do, though on some level he understood the trepidation.  
  
Dean’s eyes grazed over the exterior of his car over for any damage he might have caused it whilst handling it. A fingerprint had smudged over the entire passenger's side window and door. He had to restrain the urge to polish it off right then and there. It could wait.  
  
He frowned slightly, noticing a certain achiness in Sam's movements. But he was still hauled up inside the car, preventing Dean from getting a good look.  
  
"Sam," he prompted gently. "Come on, I don't bite."  
  
Sam gave a start at Dean's statement. He didn't want to get out of the car. The familiarity of the inside - surrounded by items the same scale as him - was keeping him from freaking out completely. So the last thing he wanted to do was step outside, where he'd be small and vulnerable and exposed. But the pleading in Dean's eyes caught him off guard.  
  
"I - I know," he managed to get out. "It's just.... Dean, you almost  _stepped_  on me!  _And_  the Impala! We almost... if I hadn't..." he lost what he was saying, starting to hyperventilate from everything he'd just gone through.  
  
Dean averted his gaze guiltily, clenching his jaw. It was hard to look in through the tiny open window at Sam's face now, harder still to come to terms with the fact that he had inspired such genuine fear in his brother.  
  
"How the hell was I supposed to know you'd be... like  _this?_  " he countered, keeping his voice soft.  
  
Dean replayed the last few minutes in his mind's eye. If not for Sam's quick actions, there could have easily been a crunch of busted metal and... Dean wouldn't have thought anything of it until it was too late. He drug a hand over his face. The crushing guilt kept him quiet for a solid minute. But inevitably, his green eyes peeked open and stared into the impossible sight before him.  
  
"I didn't shake you up too bad, did I?"  
  
Sam buried his head in his arms at Dean's answer. He knew Dean was right - in what world would either of them have ever expected to find the Impala suddenly small enough to step on? Facts like that didn't help his confidence at all, though. He was having a hard time coming to terms with everything that had changed in the blink of an eye. His own vulnerability. He’d been 6’4 maybe ten minutes ago… now, he’d be lucky to top two, _maybe_  three inches.  
  
Sam pushed that all out of his mind stubbornly. He needed to calm his breathing, get out of this mind funk and figure a way back to normal. He'd faced countless nightmares in his life without flinching, and here he was, afraid of Dean, his own  _brother_.  
  
 _With good reason,_  his mind whispered insidiously, reminding him how close it had been. If he hadn't woken up in time...  
  
 _Not helpful!_  he snapped back angrily, still working through the events of the last few minutes. He could practically feel the guilt bleeding off of Dean from what he’d almost done.  
  
Sam managed to steady his breathing and steel himself for what he was about to do, focusing on Dean's question. His internal battle quieted for the moment. "I'm fine," he called up, forcing himself to meet the concerned green eyes peering down at him hesitantly from so high above. "Just... got my arm banged up a bit when the car dropped. Barely noticeable." His smile was wavering as he spoke, trying to cover up the pain.  
  
He considered staying in the car for a second, but discarded the idea quickly. He'd have to come out eventually, so he might as well get it over with now. And it might help reassure Dean that he was okay.  
  
Sam turned off the car, tucking the keys into the side pocket of his jacket. He couldn't afford to let anything from the Impala out of sight, considering that most of it was practically microscopic to Dean. He cringed away from that line of thought quickly, knowing it could almost be applied to himself just as easily. Unlocking the door with his good arm, Sam pushed it open. His boots scuffed against the rough wood grain of the table as he stepped out of the car.  
  
Sam tried to hide a flinch when his injured arm bumped the door frame as he climbed out. The last thing he needed to do was worry Dean even more if he realized how much Sam's arm had been hurt. And how easily. Leaving the door open behind him just in case he needed to duck back in fast, Sam took a few hesitant steps towards his mountainous brother.  
  
He took a deep, calming breath once he was in the open air, trying to stop the trembles from the adrenaline rush minutes ago. It was starting to get better, at least.  
  
Dean, on the other hand, abandoned any calm thoughts altogether. It was one thing to see Sam all tiny, cooped up inside the shrunken car... but now he stood alone, revealing just how much height he had lost. Dean felt winded at the sight, short of breath, as if he'd lost a fight with a leaden punching bag.  
  
 _How the hell am I supposed to fix this?_  
  
Not wanting to scare Sam back into hiding, Dean slowly lowered his chin to the edge of the table. Even then, he had to lower his gaze to look him in the eye.  
  
"Holy fuck," he whispered, simultaneously awestruck and horrified. Even at such a low decibel, he watched a concerned frown flicker over Sam's face. Dean wondered absently if he was too loud, or if even breathing carelessly would knock the itty bitty guy right off his feet.  
  
As gingerly as he could manage, Dean set his right hand back on the table and slid it to Sam. He reached with an index finger and thumb in a pinching gesture, aiming to take a look at the sore arm his little brother was cradling.  
  
At the last second, just a breath away from actually making contact with the fabric of Sam's jacket, the comparison between them became too much. Dean chickened out and whipped his hand away. His immense body soared away from Sam as he sat back in his seat and pushed out his chair.  
  
"I'll get you some ice," he muttered. Dean stood up, growing to skyscraper height before Sam's eyes as he trudged over to the other side of the modest TV set in the middle of room.  
  
Considering the situation, Dean was thoroughly grateful that this particular Motel 6 included a mini fridge/freezer combo in their standard rooms. That meant he didn't have to stress about leaving the room to do an ice run in the hallway machine. He didn't want Sam out of his sight for more than a second right now.  
  
Dean grabbed a cube at random from the freezer. He weighed it in his hand--  _too big._  He stood up and dropped it on the laminate flooring, letting it shatter into a dozen more manageable fragments. Dean swore he could feel Sam watching him as he crouched down and procured a sliver of ice and wrapped it up in a corner of napkin.  
  
And even then, it was a little large when he handed it off to Sam.  
  
Where Sam was clutching his arm proved it wasn't dislocated at the very least. And thank God for that because Dean had no idea how he would go about fixing  _that_.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam stared up at Dean, awed at his first full look at the size difference, now that there were no walls between them. Even sitting down, from the table up Dean was the size of a building. Dean slowly leaned forward, eyes wide and locked on Sam the whole time. He rested his head on the table softly to get closer to Sam's level, meeting Sam's eyes in a shared expression of dismay. Sam couldn't help but notice even with Dean's chin flat against the table like that he would barely come up to Dean's nose. If that. It was hard to tell at this distance.  
  
Sam took a small step back from Dean's whispered exclamation, still getting used to the sheer volume of the world and the hot breeze that hit him with the whispered words. At least Dean didn't have bad breath (currently), and Sam was starting to get used to how loud his brother was.  
  
While Dean was staring him down, Sam shifted uncomfortably on the table. His arm was starting to throb more with time, reminding him he needed to take a look at it, make sure nothing was hurt too bad. As though he could read Sam's mind, Dean locked eyes on the arm, reaching a hand forward slowly.  
  
Sam froze at the sight. Dean's hand  _alone_  was longer than the Impala, and each finger was thicker and longer than Sam. Seeing them like this, outside of the protection of the car's walls, made him realize again how helpless he was here. How easy it would be for him to get hurt from a careless move.  
  
It was clear from the concentration on Dean's face he knew exactly what he was asking of Sam. The only thing that stopped Sam from backing away from the hand was the familiar expression covering Dean's face. _Make sure Sammy's ok_  combined with the same unique determination Dean saved for life or death situations. After all, for Sam this  _was_  a life or death situation. Seeing that familiar look on Dean's face was reassuring, a reminder that Dean would never do anything to purposely hurt him.  
  
Keeping his arm steady, Sam forced himself to stay still while Dean’s hand approached. The last thing either of them needed was Dean to misjudge even the slightest because Sam couldn’t stay in one place. He closed his eyes when the hand came almost close enough to touch, unable to watch the size of the fingers grow anymore. For a few seconds, he could almost feel the heat rising from Dean's skin. Then, out of nowhere, it was gone.  
  
Sam let out a small yelp when he opened his eyes, not expecting Dean to suddenly sit straight up and push his chair back. Sam still wasn't prepared for how huge Dean was. The entire table quaked with the movement, almost knocking Sam flat on his ass. Dean's eyes went wide again, staring at Sam in disbelief, almost as though he couldn’t believe what he was looking at.  
  
He saw Dean fumble for a few seconds searching for something to say before he settled on "I'll get you some ice," in a soft mumble. Dean stood up, almost stretching into the sky before quickly walking to the mini-fridge. If you could call a fridge the size of a high-rise, mini. Even from here Sam could feel the ground shake under him from his brother's footsteps.  
  
Keeping a wary eye on Dean, Sam took a few steps back towards the Impala, planning on staying near the only object in the room that didn’t make him feel outsized. He watched Dean dig through the freezer before coming up with an ice cube clenched in his first. Green eyes flicked back to Sam for a second before the cube was dropped on the ground, shattering into smaller pieces. Sam clapped his hands over his ears at the volume, not expecting it to be so loud. Dean didn't notice, too busy picking up the remains of the cube from the ground.  
  
Dean came back over to the table. His huge fingers approached Sam slowly again, this time with a bit of ice wrapped in a paper towel in them. Grateful, Sam took the proffered lump from the fingers. It was almost the size of his arm, but he knew Dean was trying.  
  
"T-thanks," he managed to get out. He sat down on the table facing Dean, a few feet away from the Impala and rested his arm against the ice. Blessed numbness took away the pain. Once the pain went down enough, he'd be able to get his jacket off and see the condition of the arm.  
  
After a few moments like that, Sam looked back up at Dean, who still had that panicked look of self-blame coating his face. That, along with the lack of any wisecracks or even a reassuring smile made Sam worry for his brother. If you gave him the chance, Dean would drown himself in regret without needing any help. "Dean," Sam said, hoping his voice was loud enough to carry. "Don't blame yourself. None of this is your fault." He shot up the best smile he could. "I'm  _fine."_  
  
Dean's fretting was disturbed by a peeved look. "You call this  _fine_?" he scoffed, taking up a careful seat in front of him again.  
  
The table shook very slightly when his feet bumped a table leg.  Sam nearly dropped the ice, and Dean faltered. It was still shocking to him that such small movements could affect Sam so intensely.  
  
"Whoa. Sorry."  
  
An awkward silence spanned out as each tried not to constantly size the other up. Sam was relieved of Dean's attention when his green eyes flicked over to the Impala. It looked glossy as ever under the warm lamp light. Spurred by an insatiable curiosity, Dean leaned way down, putting his beloved car square and center in his sights. He traced the metal rims with all the tenderness of a lover, fascination temporarily offsetting his panic.  
  
That smudge again. Had to fix that. He patted himself down and pulled his handkerchief out of his inner jacket pocket. It was wrinkled and stained a muddy rust color, even after being washed-- a testament to being used for wiping monster blood off the Winchesters' knives for years. But it was soft, making it perfect for polishing up a little smudge.  
  
After dabbing the edge with his tongue, Dean reached down and rubbed the passenger's side window with a single thumb. He pulled away, cracking a small smile when he saw the gleam left behind. He set the cloth down and gingerly picked up the Impala. He couldn't resist. The bags slid around in the backseat as he tilted it around in his hand.  
  
"Unbelievable," Dean breathed, peering into through the open door at the driver's seat he had filled so many times. Microscopic keys jingled as he set a finger on the driver's door and tested his strength, trying to gauge how much pressure it would take to shut the door without shattering the glass.  
  
"I was only gone ten minutes, max!" Dean thought aloud, still eyeballing his Baby. "So what happened, you just blink and end up puny?" he asked Sam dubiously.  
  


* * *

  
Sam winced slightly at Dean's raised voice and peeved glare. No - not raised. He was just talking in an almost normal tone of voice. And it was disconcerting to be glared at by someone big enough to smoosh him without noticing.  
  
The table shook as Dean got settled in his seat, almost knocking the ice away from Sam’s arm. Sam grabbed at it, clutching it back to his arm. He couldn't stop from shooting up a glare through Dean's apology, bangs falling in front of his face. He faltered after a moment, unable to keep his eyes on Dean any longer. There was just so  _much_  of him. He was practically a wall at the edge of the table, blocking Sam's view of the rest of the room easily. Sam found himself wishing he could go back to looking down at his brother's head, the way things were supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to be smaller than a hand.  
  
When Dean turned his sweeping gaze to the Impala, Sam found himself relaxing unconsciously. Being under such close scrutiny by someone so frickin' huge wasn't easy. Then he tensed again as Dean leaned over, peering closely down at the Impala. Sam twitched back as Dean unknowingly loomed over him, eclipsing the light from above for the younger Winchester. One massive hand planted flat on the table not far away from Sam. From here, Sam could see the fingers were easily two feet thick, the ring on Dean's hand approaching hula-hoop sized. At the very least, it would fit easily around Sam's shoulders.  
  
He wondered briefly exactly how big he was now. He couldn't be more than a few inches in height, if even that, considering how the car wasn't even the size of a hand.  
  
He watched as Dean gently caressed the Impala with his hand, tracing around the tires with a laser precision.  The panic on his face melted away, replaced by a curious fascination. Something in Sam relaxed with Dean finally out of his panicked funk. The hand next to Sam lifted away, going to Dean's jacket and pulling out a handkerchief the same size as the car, gently rubbing off smudges on the windows from when he'd grabbed the Impala earlier. When he was finished and the Impala's paint job gave off a perfect reflection, the first smile he'd gotten since Sam and the Impala had shrunk appeared on his face, content for the moment.  
  
Sam kept quiet the whole time, fascinated by the sight of an 18-foot car being treated like a beloved toy.  
  
It just wasn't natural.  
  
Seconds later, he ducked as the Impala soared over his head, scooped up by enormous, careful hands. Ok -  _that_  was weird. Dean tilted it every which way, staring into the windows curiously with a big green eye. Sam just hoped the bag with his laptop in it didn't get too banged up from all the movement, or that the papers and notes he had on the case wouldn't tumble out the door. Last he'd seen them, they'd gone flying when he'd grabbed the wheel earlier. They were going to need those notes. He had a sinking suspicion that what had happened to him might be tied to what they'd been investigating.  
  
He remembered Gina mentioning escaping through a mousehole... if the same thing had happened to her, she might literally have meant an actual  _mousehole._  
  
Still in his own world, Dean was still pouring over every minute detail of his baby. "Unbelievable," Dean muttered to himself, voice awed. A huge finger brushed against the open door, carefully closing it up. "I was only gone ten minutes, max!" he said thoughtfully, eyes for nothing but the Impala.  
  
Dean turned from the car, still cradling it gently in his hands. Sam wouldn't have been surprised to learn Dean was using it for moral support. "So what happened, you just blink and end up puny?"  
  
Sam couldn't help a slight jump when the huge eyes locked on him again. "I... dunno. It was weird." He frowned in concentration, staring at the intricate wood grain beneath him. Details he couldn't have made out twenty minutes ago jumped out at him in stark clarity. "One minute, I was sitting there, minding my own business asleep. Then... I heard this... weird... laughter. It was like it was in my head or something. Not even making any real sound. It stopped after a few moments and I almost made it back to sleep. But then... there was this..." he faltered for a second, remembering what he'd woken up to. "Earthquake... that woke me up." He clutched the ice pack tighter against his arm. "Saw boots the size of a house coming right at me and the Impala, heard my phone start going off, and dove for the wheel. The rest you know."  
  
Sam turned his gaze back up to Dean, shifting his makeshift ice pack. It was starting to melt through the paper towel on him. "If you hadn't left the keys in the ignition, I don't even know what I would have done. There's no way I could have hotwired the car fast enough to get out of the way."  
  
 _Me_ , Dean realized,  _I was the earthquake._  The fact was chilling to say the least. Whatever force was at work here clearly had no qualms about putting Sam into danger.  
  
Dean barely breathed as Sam continued to recount his side of the story. He had to stay quiet to even hear the guy clearly. Their perspectives were so vastly different... the way Sam was describing things was downright alien. Looking down at his toy-sized brother, Dean couldn't begin to imagine what he looked like to him.  
  
"Back up. You said you heard laughter?" Dean said, wheels turning in his head. He gingerly- if a bit reluctantly- set the tiny Impala back onto the tabletop. "Like that Gina chick back at the police station. Said she was hearing some invisible laughter when she was... wandering through Kim's closet."  
  
Dean shook his head, still not entirely certain about the credibility of that last detail. Still, the detail of an invisible laugh and seemingly impossible outcome... It was a connection he couldn't ignore. Dean tilted his head at Sam, eyeing him up head to toe for the umpteenth time. There was no getting used to this.  
  
"Can you hear any laughing right now?" he asked.  
  
Sam frowned as the Impala was placed away from him on the table, slightly disconcerted by how easily and unknowingly Dean had separated him from his only shelter. Even though he knew Dean hadn't meant anything by it, it was a little frightening to be trapped in such an expansive landscape with nothing familiar nearby.  
  
He brought himself back to Dean's words as his brother talked, concentrating. "No, I haven't heard it since I woke up in the car. Not even a peep." He ignored the way Dean was staring down at him. He’d forgotten how intimidating Dean could be by accident. Sam reminded himself that it just meant Dean was completely focused on the problem. On Sam. "With any luck, maybe this will just wear off like it did for Gina. She said she was only gone for about three hours."  
  
Thinking about being stuck like this for three hours suddenly hit him like a brick. He'd been small for barely ten minutes and it already felt like slow torture. Plus he couldn't stop himself from shooting surreptitious glances at Dean every few seconds, well aware of the threat his brother could unknowingly pose.  
  
Pushing away his melted napkin of ice, Sam carefully took off his jacket, placing it down next to him on the rough table. He was pretty sure the table would be smooth if he was still normal sized, another weird thought. He rolled up his sleeve gingerly, revealing the spectacular bruising pattern on his upper arm. But luckily, there was no other damage that he could find. No break, sprain or dislocation. It would be sore for a bit, but that was all. He was lucky that was all that had happened, all things considered. He rubbed the arm once it was free of the sleeve, glad it was feeling a little better now.  
  
Dean nodded in agreement. "Still doesn't explain what did this to you,” he pointed out in a low voice. He shook his head, hating that no matter how hard he racked his brain through dozens of years of hunting, he couldn't think of a single thing that shrunk people for kicks.  
  
"You're not dead, so the Trickster is probably out of the question," Dean mumbled dubiously, pursing his lips in thought. "I dunno, Sammy. Maybe somebody got sick of you being a ginormatron." A smirk flickered over Dean's face, but it was fleeting.  
  
He saw the damage he had done to Sam's arm and again felt entirely monstrous. He opened his mouth to apologize, then shut it again. Sam already knew.  
  
Nodding thoughtfully as he pulled his sleeve back down, Sam was well aware of the guilt still on Dean's face. He ignored the small attempt at humor, though he was secretly glad to see Dean loosening up slightly. He was a much better hunter when he was focused on the problem, and with Sam in this condition, he'd need Dean at the top of his game.  
  
Pulling himself to a stand, Sam grabbed his jacket with his good arm, trudging towards the far-away car. He needed to check his notes again, and maybe see if a micro laptop could catch a Wi-Fi signal. He focused on the problem as a distraction while he walked.  _What could possibly shrink a person?_ he thought to himself while he walked.  
  
Thinking out loud, he spoke to the air. "Well, curses have been known to do some strange things to people." He shifted his jacket so it was draped over his shoulder. "Spirits are probably out of the question, we've never known them to do anything like this, and the way it jumped from Gina to me just doesn't track with their usual MO. Witches... that’s a possibility. We should see if anyone has it out for Gina... any enemies, past lovers, the usual. Maybe they recognized hunters and switched targets. Or maybe she was a lure, just to draw us in..." He shook his head. “Shrinking, of all things,” he gave a small laugh.  
  
He could almost  _feel_  Dean's eyes taking his progress as he hiked across the table in front of the massive arms that were not far from him. He wished the car was closer to where he'd been sitting. Dean had put it down to the side, presumably just setting it where he wouldn't accidentally bump against it with a careless move. But it left the Impala a good hike away from Sam as a result.  
  


* * *

  
It was like watching one of his tiny toy soldiers as a kid spring to life and start walking around.  _So friggin' weird_.  
  
As entertaining as it was to watch his itty-bitty brother in motion, Dean could see it was more than a leisurely stroll to the car. With Sam obviously already sore, there was no reason to further his suffering. Dean unfolded his arms to pick up the Impala and set it down just a few inches in front of Sam.  
  
Little Sam came to an abrupt halt as Dean's immense hand dropped down, leaving the Impala in its wake. Dean expected a look of relief or gratitude, but instead he got more uneasiness and fear shot up at him. He couldn't help the silent  _What?_  that slipped across his face... before he realized that to Sam, he had literally just moved an 18 foot car with a single hand. How was it that Sam was the one who shrunk, and yet here he was, feeling like the giant freak?  
  
"Poke around for a hex bag. I can't even fit my pinkie in there right now," Dean told him with an uneasy chuckle.  
  
Sam gave a start when the huge arm lying near him on the table started moving. But instead of scooping him up like he'd been afraid of, it swept the Impala up, dropping it on the table less than six feet from where Sam was. He froze when the car touched down, still shocked to see the Impala so easily moved. He couldn't help a quick glance up at Dean, unable to prevent a sliver of intimidation passing over his face.  
  
Dean gave Sam a brief look of surprise back, as though he'd expected Sam to take the car being moved so easily in stride like him. Then uneasiness, as if Dean had realized what he'd done. Shaking his head to clear out all these distractions, Sam pulled open the rear door. He needed to focus. Digging through the mess in the backseat, Sam found his laptop, thankfully still in one piece. Everything else was in good shape, just tossed around.  
  
Slipping back out of the car, he stuck the laptop on the roof of the car, turning it on to start loading.  _Good thing I charged it up last night,_  he thought uneasily. While he was stuck this size, the only way he could charge it would be with the Impala, and the car's gas and battery wouldn't last forever. All the more reason to figure this case out fast.  
  
Leaving it there for the moment, he went back into the car. Starting in the front, he dug through every crevice and nook you  _might_  be able to hide a hexbag in, pausing briefly to put his notes back in order on the passenger seat. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the shadow of his brother moving around outside the windows, probably trying to see what Sam was doing in his car. Giving up on the back seats, he pulled out of the car with a huff.  _Where else..._  he thought.  
  
For the next ten minutes, he searched the engine, the trunk and even peeked under the car with a flashlight, but no luck. Giving up, he slouched down against the trunk. "I don't think it's a hexbag," he called up to Dean. "Unless they got it  _inside_  one of the seats, or shoved it so far up the muffler it'll never see the light of day. But, the car runs fine, so I don't think it would be anywhere I can't reach." He grabbed the laptop off the roof, sitting on the trunk so he could talk to Dean at the same time. "Hey! I've got internet!"  
  
 _Smurf-sized Wi-Fi?_  Dean scoffed dubiously. This he had to see for himself. Trying to be subtle, he took a risk and leaned way down close over the Impala, his chin hovering mere centimeters over the metal hood. As quiet as he thought he was, his breathing and even body heat was still tangible to the smaller man. Dean squinted at the glow of the laptop screen, just barely able to make out the green speck on the miniature screen that meant that Wi-Fi was connected.  
  
"I'll be damned,” he muttered. From this close he could see Sam stiffen, as if he's been cornered by a monstrous wendigo in the woods. He sighed, accidentally ruffling Sam's hair into a fluffy mess as he pulled away, sitting back again.  
  
"You don't have to give me the Godzilla treatment. I'm trying to save your bacon here, Sammy." He felt a little bad for pointing out Sam's obvious trepidation. He knew that, put in Sam's shoes, he'd be just as freaked. But it wasn't exactly an ego boost to continually terrify your little brother just by  _breathing_.  
  
He didn't linger on the subject, moving onto what he could actually  _do_ , which right now essentially dwindled to pure research. Actually...  
  
"Crap," Dean groaned. He stole a glance through the back window of the Impala. Sure enough, his duffle bag was sitting on the backseat. It would be generous to call it bite-sized. "Looks like you're on your own with researching this creep." He stared down at the car in frustration. "Don't worry, baby, we'll have you fixed real soon. Be patient for me." He soothed the car, stroking her hood lovingly.  
  
"Dean..." Sam sighed. It wasn't fair to Dean he was skittish. Honestly, aside from almost stepping on the car and sending Sam flying into the door, Dean was doing much better than he was.  
  
 _'Course it's not like he's smaller than a finger..._ Sam pushed those thoughts away.  
  
He didn't  _mean_  to keep jumping whenever Dean looked at him, he really didn’t. But sitting there on the car while Dean leaned close behind him... or the way he'd had to grab the slip of paper that had Gina's information on it to keep Dean from accidentally inhaling it when he breathed in...  
  
It was a lot to take in.  
  
Especially since hovering right behind him had been a mouth so big he could easily just walk right in.  
  
Not a comforting thought by a long shot.  
  
Pausing his work on the laptop, Sam turned. For a moment, he watched the thick fingers next to him gently caress the car. Sam brushed his mussed up hair from his eyes as Dean sat back, leaving one hand draped on the table near his precious Impala.  
  
Gathering his resolve, Sam got up from the car and stalked over to the immense hand. Dean hadn't noticed him moving, staring vaguely into space far above Sam's head. With every ounce of the famous Winchester stubbornness in his small body, Sam kicked the finger closest to him, dodging out of the way when it twitched in surprise.  
  
With Dean's attention focused on him, Sam stood straight, gathering every millimeter of height he had left in his formerly 6'4 body. "Dean, I'm  _not_  scared of you." He pushed stubbornly through the doubt he knew was there. "It's just a lot to take in, you know? But you're still my brother, and I'd trust you with my life any day."  
  
Sam leaned on the hand fearlessly, knowing actions got through to Dean far more effectively than words any day. And he knew he'd be safe like this with Dean, no matter how small he was. He smiled. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and get us some food, Godzilla?"  
  
Dean practically flinched when Sam kicked his finger. Eyebrows hiked up high, he swiveled his gaze downwards. His breath caught in his throat. Next to his relaxed hand, he realized that he could fit four or five of Sam in his palm alone. Sam had been scrawny as a kid, but this... this felt so wrong.  
  
Though distracted by the fact that Sam's shoulders barely exceeded the width of the joint of his finger, Dean had to admit his show of support did not go unappreciated. He scoffed quietly, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth. With the very tip of his pinkie finger, Dean ruffled Sam's bangs sloppily in front of his eyes as he pulled away.  
  
"Let me just call my buddy King Kong, see what I can wrangle up."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean started to stand up, the slight motion of his hand bracing against the table rocking Sam backward. Dean flinched forward, hand outstretched to break his fall. To his relief, he felt the almost infinitesimal weight plop into the curve of his fingers. Dean's jaw dropped at the sensation. So far, he’d been able to avoid actually holding Sam, and now he had to face it head on as his brother gaped up at him from the cushion his fingertips provided.  
  
"Uhh right." Dean hastily boosted him onto his feet and finished standing up. "I'm just going to pretend that didn't happen."  
  
He flexed his hand, glancing over his shoulder again at Sam as he walked over to the local phone book tucked between the beds. A few minutes later, he was on the phone, ordering a small order of eggrolls, rice, and sesame chicken. He couldn't shake the feeling of holding Sam out of his head. Mostly it was just too weird for words... but more frightening, a part of him was curious enough to give it another try.  
  
Sam stumbled forward slightly as Dean helped him back to his feet, the motion of the fingertips clumsy against his back, but they got the job done. Dean stared down at him with an incredulous expression on his face before he finished standing, looming over Sam.  
  
Sam couldn't move for a few seconds, still in shock over the whole thing. Especially how fast it had all happened. Seeing the huge hand moving to catch him had been nerve wracking, knowing the slightest misjudgment on Dean's part could kill or injure him. His fears had been unfounded though, landing safely on the leathery surface of Dean's fingers. Dean had seemed just as shocked as Sam at his reaction, but Sam knew that Dean couldn't just sit and watch his little brother fall or get hurt. It just wasn't how Dean was made. He always had to try and help, no matter what.  
  
It made Sam wonder what it must be like for Dean. Having your brother smaller than most toys… it must feel just as awkward for Dean as it was for Sam.  _Just a little safer since he can’t get squished as easy._  
  
Pulling himself back together, Sam went back over to the Impala. While Dean was still over by the beds, ordering them food, he dug one of their blankets out of the trunk. He figured working in the Impala wouldn't do any good - it wasn't overly comfortable when he was on the laptop and he'd already spent long enough in there today, plus Dean was _already_ convinced Sam wanted to hide from him. So the Impala was off limits.  
  
Spreading the blanket over the ground next to the Impala to cover up the rough surface of the table, he set up all his notes, placing his laptop the center. Once he had his work area set up, he loaded up the internet, searching out anything he could think of that related to 'shrinking' or checking to see if Gina had stepped on any toes in the last few months.  
  
He paused briefly to sneak a quick glance up when the floor started to shake under him again. Once he saw it was just Dean coming back over, he turned his attention back to the monitor, ignoring the giant.  
  
"Aw, you've got yourself a little research picnic set up," Dean cooed. He chuckled at the annoyed glance Sam shot him. "We're having Chinese. Figured you could probably hold a piece of white rice pretty easily, right?"  
  
"Hmm?" Sam asked, distracted. He hasn't honestly been paying attention. "Uh, yeah. Rice sounds fine." A little bland, but beggars can't be choosers. He stared down at his hand, briefly curious how big a grain of rice would be at his new scale.  
  
Dean gripped the back of the closest chair and took great care in pulling out slowly, hardly scraping the legs against the floor. He took a seat, more aware of his movements than ever before.  
  
"Got anything?" he asked, dipping his head at the little laptop.  
  
Sam watched Dean sit down carefully, this time not jarring the table, which Sam was grateful for. Every time such a small action affected him so much, it felt like Dean was rubbing salt in the wound, even if it was unintentional. Continuous reminders of his helplessness.  
  
Focusing back on the laptop, Sam spoke to the air, filling Dean in. "Far as I can tell, Gina's clean. Hasn't done anything that might piss off a witch, there are no gypsies in the area to speak of. 'Course, we might not have all the information there - there's always things people manage to hide." He pushed his hair out of his face, glancing up at Dean - straight up. Dean was leaning over Sam's small work area in order to hear him better. He push down the slight trepidation that came from how easily he was overshadowed by his brother, knowing it wasn't on purpose.   
  
"You know, something's bothering me about this whole case." Sam gestured at the car. "Why go through all this effort? There are easier ways to kill someone, so there must be a  _reason_  I was shrunk." He gave Dean a helpless look.  
  
Dean nodded, replaying Gina's story in his mind's eye. There was certainly a connection... but so much was fogged up with unanswered questions.  
  
"You know what else," Dean said, containing his voice to a murmur. "You're not dead. It left the keys in the ignition. It gave Gina a mouse-hole to jump through... those are some pretty big loose ends to leave behind."  
  
Dean frowned, wearing a model's rugged pout as he contemplated the facts. "Maybe we should give Gina a ring. See if she left anything out."  
  
"Yeah, she might have left out details since she didn't think anyone believed her already... who knows, there could have been crazier stuff." Sam glanced over at the car, contemplating whether he should get up and get his phone. "You want to give her a call?" He was having trouble wrapping his mind around talking to anyone but Dean while he was travel-sized.  
  
Dean gave him a distracted nod, already pulling out his phone and Gina's business card he had lifted from the evidence bag. He punched in her number and stood up as it started to ring. He motioned vaguely for Sam to keep at it while he turned his back on his shrunken brother and strode over to the other side of the room. He needed to be able to talk at a normal volume to actually have a conversation with this woman.  
  
"Hey, Gina. Tom Wyatt here, we spoke at the station. I have a few more follow up questions for you..."  
  
She didn't have much to add. But when Dean suggested she might be the victim of a new type of roofie, Gina confessed that the reason she knew it was Kim Kardashian's closet was because the bimbo herself had been stomping around her closet, dropping things and tossing shoes around while picking out an outfit. Dean shifted uncomfortably as he listened, reminiscent of how he himself had nearly been the stomper in Sam's situation.  
  
When he heard her disgruntled husband in the background demanding what she was doing on the phone with another man at this late hour, Dean took his cue to hang up.  
  
"She was definitely shrunk," Dean announced wearily. He left the phone on the nightstand as he ambled back over to Sam. "Mentioned stomping and giants." He made a disgruntled face, as if the words left an actual bitterness in his mouth. "I feel weird even saying that."  
  
Before he could get lost in the new  _Holy Shit My Brother is the Size of a Toy_  stare again, there was a knock on the motel door. Dean happily pulled out his wallet, infinitely grateful that it, too, hadn't been shrunk along with the rest of his worldly belongings. He barely opened the door wide enough to take the big paper bag, and after that pressed enough cash into the Asian man's hands to cover both the bill and the tip. There was a momentary exchange of "thanks" before the door was shut in his face and locked up tight.  
  
Sam came out from behind the Impala. He'd ducked behind the moment he'd heard the door start to open. He didn't want any unknown giants thrown into the mix. Especially since it was hard enough to stay calm when it was just Dean he had to worry about, and at least he knew he could trust Dean.  
  
Dean peered into the bag and grinned. "Fortune cookies." It had been an occasional game between him and Sam to see who could come up with the dirtiest twist on thee fortune. Out of instinct, Dean raised his devious look to share with his brother... only to realize that Sam's face was too tiny to even be viewed clearly from across the room.  
  
Setting the bag of fresh food on the foot of the second bed, Dean took up his position at the table's edge.  
  
"Brainfood break,” he announced. Not that Sam was complaining. Everything about this abrupt case was the very definition of frustrating. Dean stood there awkwardly for a moment, visibly wrestling with himself.  
  
"You uh... you wanna eat over here?" he offered. Truthfully, he wanted to eat on the bed like he always did. Maybe watch some mindless TV show...  
  
"Or I could uh... y'know." Dean lowered a hand palm up onto the table.  
  
Sam stared at the hand Dean had dropped onto the table for him. In one part of his mind, he knew what Dean was going for, and it wasn't an unreasonable offer. After all, he could hardly get around the room on his own, and he didn't particularly want to eat alone at the table. He'd feel more comfortable being closer to Dean, which surprised him. But the last time Dean had picked him up, he'd been protected by the Impala, which at least had the honor of  _almost_ being the size of Dean's hand. Whereas Sam, on the other hand, was smaller than Dean's pinkie, and far more fragile than the car. And when Dean had caught him falling, he'd only been on the fingertips for a few seconds before standing back up.  
  
All this passed through his mind in a matter of seconds. "Uh... sure," Sam said, slowly working his mind past the size. It was still Dean. He stepped up to the immense hand and climbed hesitantly on. His boots sank slightly into the same leathery skin that had broken his fall not too long ago. The crevices on Dean's palm upset his balance a bit, making him stumble slightly before catching himself. Sam was surprised at the heat his brother radiated - he wasn't freezing by any means, but ever since shrinking he'd noticed the world was colder than he was used to. It was almost nice, feeling warm again. It made him miss his normal size even more.  
  
Sam made his way to the center of the palm, hyper aware of how small he was in comparison to Dean. The skin under him formed a broad platform, large enough he didn't feel like he was going to fall right of the second his brother stood up, hopefully. He tried to push away the instincts telling him to get as far from Dean as possible and concentrated on waving up that he was ready.  
  
Dean swallowed, lost for words. It didn't feel like his brother. It felt like a mere shade, a replica of the young man he knew so well. But there was no denying the gravity of holding Sam's entire body... His entire life in a single hand. Despite the fact that Sam weighed practically nothing to him, he felt like he'd been handed an oversized dumb-bell.  
  
"Alright, sit tight,” he mumbled. His free hand came over and curved in a precise 'c' shape, a curved wall just beyond Sam's back to protect him from the swaying motion of walking. Dean's eyes were locked on Sam the whole time he walked over to the bed. One twitch could send Sam plummeting to his death.  
  
To both of their reliefs, he made it to the bed without incident. Dean pulled a pillow up next to him and lowered his hand onto that, giving Sam a little cushioned platform to sit on. He watched his little brother stand up and wobble his way along the lifeline on Dean's hand.  
  
"You're so  _small_ ," Dean breathed, eyebrows knit again like he just couldn't wrap his mind around this. He shook himself out of his redundant stupor when Sam turned to face him, not wanting to bug the little guy more than he was already having to put up with. He set to pulling out the containers of food, finding the white rice first and pulling out a pinch for Sam's perusal.  
  
"How's this?" he offered. "I can probably put some soy sauce in a bottle cap for you, too, come to think of it."  
  
"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks." Sam said, still distracted by his ride over to the bed. If anyone had told him that morning that he'd be small enough to be carried around in the palm of his brother's hand, he would've laughed in their face.  
  
But here he was. Less than three inches tall, as far as he could tell. His heart had been in his throat the moment Dean's second hand had walled him in. It was just there to keep him from falling off the hand, but the way it surrounded him, the way he couldn't see over the top even if he standing to know where they were going... It was overwhelming. Dean surrounded him on all sides without even trying. And looking up at his brother, staring down at him from so high up in the air just ground it all in.  
  
Sam was used to being the tallest person in the room... As soon as he'd passed Dean in height, he'd never let his brother forget it. Dean always made jokes about his height, calling him 'Sasquatch' and 'gigantor,' but Sam knew a part of Dean missed the days Sam always looked up to him.  
  
Well, Sam was certainly looking up at Dean now.  
  
Pulling himself away from the past, Sam glanced to see where his big brother was. "Could you get me something to drink, too?!" Sam shouted, knowing Dean wouldn't be able to hear him well from where he was. Dean nodded distractedly while he grabbed himself some containers of food.  
  
Sam sat down next to the small mound of rice Dean had placed near him, grabbing one of the top grains. The pillow made it feel like he was constantly off balance while walking, but as soon as he sat down with his legs crossed, he realized it was one of the most comfortable surfaces he'd ever sat on.  
  
Once Sam was settled, he weighed the rice in his hand, surprised. It was almost the same shape and size as a hotdog.  _Too bad they don't make buns this size,_  he thought to himself wryly, momentarily entertained by the thought of ant-sized hot dog buns. Ant picnics… Sam caught himself lost in thought as Dean ambled back over, dropping a bottlecap of soy sauce by his side. Sam wasted no time digging in. They hadn't eaten much that day, and he was starved.  
  
What seemed like a simple enough request for a drink led Dean on a ten-minute goose chase around the room. He kept wanting to rummage in his duffle bag for a beer cap, maybe something from the first aid kit that could help. But they were currently the size of a microchip and frustratingly inaccessible. He looked around, taking inventory of what he had: two boxes of Chinese food, four pairs of chopsticks, a bottle of water, a silver switch blade, the demon knife, the EMF meter, and two fifties in his wallet. He scratched his chin, eyeballing Sam again to get an estimate of his height. Couldn't be more than a couple inches, judging by the bratwurst-sized rice he bore in his hands.  
  
His green eyes lingered on the sight of Sam munching away eagerly on the soy-sauce soaked rice bits. Something about it reminded him of the old days when his little brother used gobble up the canned spaghetti-O's he'd cook when Dad had been out for the night... or several. Though Sam seemed too preoccupied to notice the giant eyes on him for once, Dean felt himself verging into weird territory, and opted to flip on the TV. A typical family-centered sitcom filled up the screen, with the laugh track blaring through the speakers. Dean dropped the remote next to Sam.  
  
"See if there's any good flicks on,” he said dismissively, standing up with the water bottle in hand.  
  
Sam gave a small jump when the TV remote dropped next to him, to preoccupied with his food to notice what Dean was up too. He peered up at Dean as his brother turned away from the bed, still searching for a way for Sam to drink. Guilt pinged at Sam as he realized Dean's food was going to get cold before he got to eat, because of Sam. He wanted to tell Dean to just forget it, maybe he could just use the cap the soy sauce was in, but suddenly Dean was nowhere in sight.  
  
Sam's heart jumped in his throat when he realized he was alone in the room. As long as he was this size, he was vulnerable. If anyone broke in while Dean was out of sight, or heaven forbid, a spider or bug attacked Sam, he'd have a hard time protecting himself.  
  
Wanting to distract himself from his size, Sam dropped the rice for a minute, wobbling over the pillowtop to the remote control Dean had left there for him. It was easily as long as the Impala. Climbing onto it, he walked over to the channel button. Testing the rubbery surface, a circle larger than his boot, he found he could change the channels by stomping on it. At least he was still big enough for that.  
  
He spent a few peaceful minutes flipping through the channels before landing on the news. With the strangeness going on in town, they could always get lucky and find more information this way. It was unlikely, but possible.  
  
Dean remained in the bathroom for several minutes, fiddling with the waterbottle and his pocket knife. After a final "son of a bitch!" heralding a nicked finger, he remerged with a triumphant expression and a tiny clear thing between a finger and thumb.  
  
"We're fresh out of teeny crystal goblets." Dean snarked, leaning down to offer the water to him in what turned out to be a meticulously cut piece of plastic. He touched the very bottom of the water bottom to the edge of Sam's plastic piece in a gentle toast, then took a small swig, careful to avoid the jagged hole in the top.  
  
Sam heard an angry " _son of a bitch!_  " from the bathroom, quickly followed by Dean's exit. His brother had a triumphant smile on his face, holding something pinched between his fingers. Once he drew close to Sam, Sam was able to make out a tiny, homemade cup delicately held between two huge fingers.  
  
Sam grinned at Dean's ingenuity and his tiny snark. It always amazed Sam what his brother could come up with when left to his own devices. He gratefully accepted it from Dean's fingers with a huge smile, tapping it against the water bottle and toasting the air with Dean. He was getting far more comfortable with Dean, especially with how solicitous Dean was being about his size.  
  
Once they were both done drinking, Sam turned his face up to Dean, a sudden need to let Dean know how much he appreciated it all filling him. "Dean..." he said, serious. "Thanks. For everything."  
  
Dean dipped his chin in acknowledgement, taking a seat next to the pillow.  
  
"If our roles were reversed, you'd do the same for me," Dean reasoned. He grabbed the bag of Chinese food and plunged a hand noisily into its contents, fishing out the bag of egg rolls. "Least you better."  
  
Allowing the stress of the matter to ease for the moment, Dean stretched his legs out and crossed his feet at the ankle. He didn't bother taking off his shoes; having a shrunken brother by his side was a constant reminder of their unidentified assailant. He couldn't relax completely knowing their mystery monster was alive and well.  
  
He tore into the first eggroll he got his hands on, finishing it in three big bites. Another swallow of water.  
  
"Would you look at the rack on  _her?_ " A lustful smile crossed his face, distracted by the low-cut blouse the news anchor donned.  
  
Sam grabbed for the cap of soy sauce when Dean sat down, barely stopping it from spilling all over the pillow. He honestly should've seen that coming. He already knew how Dean's smallest movements could disrupt so much down at this size. Weird to think about, considering Sam was usually bigger than Dean. Right now he couldn't imagine seeing someone bigger than his brother. Dean was already the size of a mountain.  
  
He turned his attention back to the remains of his rice as Dean dug through the house-sized bag of food he'd ordered. Sam's appetite was severely diminished when Dean started eating. Dean's messy way of eating bothered Sam enough when they were the same size. With him less than bite-sized, it was downright terrifying. He watched as Dean tore into an eggroll, his throat flexing as he swallowed it down, barely chewing. Sam shuddered, staring down at the pillow to avoid looking at his brother, though he could still hear Dean as he drank enough water to fill a pool.  
  
Dean's voice drew him out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the news report. Pushing away his brother's side effects and commentary, Sam focused on the local news. Nothing out of the ordinary in the last few days... Sam frowned. "Whatever this is, it's flying under the radar. Aside from Gina and me, we haven't heard anything else happening in the area." He rubbed his eyes tiredly, stifling a huge yawn. "What the hell is going on in this town…?"  
  
"Yeah but with shrinking in the equation, you gotta wonder how many missing persons cases could be related. Could be any number of ‘em, just too small to see." Dean rubbed his own eyes with the balls of his palms and made a weary sounding scoff. "Still can't believe we're talking about  _shrinking_..."  
  
He got up and cleaned up the dinner mess. There wasn't much; it felt a little strange cleaning up take out for one. Usually there was twice this many boxes, all empty. As it was, Sam hadn't even been able to help make a dent in the food. For the first time in a while, Dean found himself packing away leftovers. He made sure to save Sam's makeshift plastic cup, setting it on the nightstand next to an Ad for a local orchard.  
  
Dean stood over the pillow, able to recognize Sam's droopy posture even from the height between them.  
  
"What do you say? Wanna try to sleep it off?" Dean said, playing up on their one hope that this was a temporary condition. After all, it wore off for Gina, why not Sam? Would it be a crime for luck to be on their side for once?  
  
Sam sighed as Dean cleaned up the food. "Yeah," he agreed, too tired to care. It had already been a long day before he'd been shrunk. He stared up at Dean's looming form, unable to completely push down a slight thrill of fear to be talking to someone so massive staring intently down at him. He pushed off the billowy surface of the pillow, coming to a wobbly stand. He stared at the room around him, taking in the two massive beds. He couldn’t imagine sleeping in one while he was this size… he couldn’t even use the blankets at all without the risk of getting lost. "I guess... I'll just, uh, sleep in the Impala."  
  
Dean wordlessly knelt down and laid his hand out on the pillow. His other hand hovered close behind, ready to cup a protective barrier and seal up the place where Sam stepped aboard. He carried Sam over to the nightstand instead, bringing the Impala over next.  
  
"Just in case something else goes to hell, you're within arm's reach," Dean explained, not looking up as he pulled off his shoes and jacket. He ran his tongue over his teeth, wishing idly that his toothpick wasn't the size of a splinter right now.  
  
Regardless, he slid the demon knife under his pillow and laid down, turning to watch Sam settled into the miniature car.  
  
Sam took a cautious step back as the Impala was gently lowered a few feet away on the nightstand, still adjusting to the sight of the car lifted so easily. He was surprised he hadn't thought about how far away from Dean he'd be on the table. "Makes sense," he agreed, briefly glancing over his shoulder at Dean. Still weird to think about being literally in arm's reach from Dean's perspective, considering how far away the bed looked from here now.  
  
He wondered again how weird this all was for Dean. Sure, Sam was the teeny one, but he still had all his stuff, his clothing, weapons, laptop, a place to stay... But Dean only had whatever had been on his person when he went to check into the motel. The Impala was his home - everything Dean had ever cared about was in the car, which at the moment he was too big to even be able to open the doors to. Pretty much everything important to him fit in the palm of his hand until they managed to reverse whatever the hell had shrank Sam and the Impala.  
  
Sam sighed. Stubbornly, he pushed away those thoughts, deciding they could wait till morning. With any luck this would all be over then. Climbing into the car, he grabbed the blanket from earlier and his bag of clothes. He got settled in the front seat, using the clothes as a makeshift pillow.  
  
Spotting Dean still staring at him from his place on the bed, Sam glared. "You mind?" he snipped, growing tired of giant eyes constantly on him. He could understand Dean's curiosity, but the feeling of huge eyes on him constantly was making him feel paranoid. Like he was being watched, even when Dean was turned away, if that made any sense.   
  
Sam rolled over in the seat so he couldn't see his brother, trying to find a position his arm didn't hurt so much to sleep in.  
  
"Take it easy, princess," Dean muttered, truthfully embarrassed at having been caught ogling once again.  
  
He rolled away, flicking off the TV and bathing the room in darkness. All these unanswered questions made him feel exposed, vulnerable to attack from God knows what. For all he knew, he could be waking up the tiny one. Or Sam could shrink more. Or---  
  
_Or maybe he'll grow back to normal size overnight, and you can put all this behind you by lunch time tomorrow,_  a faint voice piped up in the back of his mind. Dean nearly scoffed out loud at his own thought.  
  
_Yeah, and when are we ever that lucky?_  
  
He tossed and turned for hours before finding sleep. Every time he even glimpsed the sheen of the tiny car on the nightstand, it made his insides clench. He replayed the night in his head, guilt bobbing up to the surface at the memory of the car skidding out from under his shoe. But at last, his body allowed him a meager five hours of rest, secure in the knowledge that at least for tonight, Sam was safe.  
  
Little did he know that no matter what lengths he took to protect his brother, it wouldn't be enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite how exhausted he was, Sam found it hard to settle into sleep. He drifted in and out of wakefulness over the course of the next few hours, often disrupted by Dean's loud movements on the bed. Dean seemed to be having just as hard a time settling down as Sam, constantly tossing and turning with all the subtlety of a landslide.  
  
Eventually though, Dean settled down and Sam found himself drifting off into sleep at last. He sighed into the bag of clothes serving as his pillow, finally allowing himself to relax for the first time that night. Here, inside the metal body of the Impala, he felt safe.  
  
Sam slipped into the realm of dreams, reliving the last few hours through a hazy fog and a strange angle.  
  
 _He sees the Impala, parked in front of the motel in the darkness of night. Sam stands a few feet behind it, watching the back of his own head through the window with surprise. Dean climbs out, slamming the door shut behind him. His form faded away as he enters the motel lobby. Something near Sam laughs, giggling with glee as it reaches out to the car. The Impala starts to shrink..._  
  
What the hell is this? What's going on?  
  
 _...until it stops, barely visible now from Sam's point of view outside the car. Barely reaching seven inches in length, something inside Sam clenches when he sees how small the car is, knowing he's inside it now and is even smaller. Dean comes back out of the lobby, walking over to the parking space the tiny car is in. Shock paints his face when he doesn't find the Impala where he left it. He walks away, not noticing the tiny car parked a few feet away from his boots.  
  
Sam watches as Dean walks up and down the line of cars as though he's unsure of where he parked. Not finding his baby, he walks back over to the spot, pulling out his phone and holding out his arms as though he thinks the Impala might be invisible. Sam can almost see the second his tiny double wakes up and realizes what's happening. The tiny car blares its horn seconds before Dean's boot unknowingly lands on it. He realizes how close he truly came to being crushed by a careless step.  
  
_Is that really how small I am?  
 _  
Dean stumbles, almost falling over as the tiny car screeched away. Sam relives the same fear and panic he felt when trying to escape. That sense of helplessness when all the Impala's horsepower did him no good against Dean himself.  
  
And sure enough, Dean straightens up. He stares after the tiny car in disbelief before lunging forward, stopping Sam before he reaches the end of the parking spot. As fast as the car had been going, it meant nothing to a regular sized human. Dean closes a hand firmly around the tiny black body.  
  
While Dean lunges for the car, Sam realizes something is standing near him. He twists around, the hairs on the back of his neck raising when he sees there is nothing there. The presence remains invisible, incorporeal.  
  
Another laugh breaks through the night.  **I like you** , it giggles without sound.  **I’m glad you didn’t get squished**.  
  
The dream shatters._  
  
Sam woke up for a few seconds, confused. Seeing only the calm interior of the Impala, lit by the tiny blinking power light of his laptop, he collapsed back into his bench seat bed.  _That's right,_ he thought morosely.  _I'm tiny._  
  
That was the only coherent thought to pass through his mind before his body gave into exhaustion. He sank gratefully back into sleep.  
  
He was so exhausted, he never even realized the Impala wasn't on the nightstand anymore.  
  


* * *

  
Dean was torn between a dream about a private stripper and a foggy memory of a past, less-sucky than usual, thanksgiving. The stripper one was a sequel to another he'd had last week. Thanksgiving he never really wanted to talk about... But reliving the memory in bits and pieces wasn't so bad.   
  
He rolled onto his stomach, his arm landing carelessly on the pillow next to a certain shrunken car.   
  
His fingers clumsily trailed over the hood of the Impala as his arm settled into place. He was too deeply invested in his dream to register the object, but his subconscious selfishly claimed her as his own all the same. His arm swept her close across the pillow, leaving the tiny car at a precarious angle as he let the side of his face rest against it. The rearview mirrors groaned under the titanic weight, threatening to snap off as he shifted again, his warm, relaxed breathing fogging up the windows.  
  


* * *

  
Sam was forcibly yanked from an uneasy sleep when the Impala shifted unexpectedly around him. He blinked in the darkness, wide awake and staring around the dark car.   
  
With a yelp, he found himself thrown from the seat when the front of the car suddenly dropped down, turning the Impala’s seats into a sharp slope. Sam tumbled into the passenger side footwell. His comparatively 6’4 body got stuck as the car rocked violently around him. Sam groaned as the sharp movement grinded his injured arm against the edge of the bench seat.  
  
The movement quickly stopped, replaced with the sound of strained metal, groaning loudly. Sam tried to pull himself out of the corner, hampered by his arm and his size. He just wasn’t meant to be squashed in such a relatively small area. Even though he was only a few inches tall, he was still too big for  _some_  things.  
  
Climbing out at last, he flinched away from the driver's side door, hearing the metal strain under a huge weight. A sudden gust of hot air filled the car through the still-open window, fogging up the windows in the dark.   
  
Apprehensively, Sam climbed up the seats, digging through the duffel bag still perched on the back seat somehow. Dean always kept it packed with everything they might need for a hunt, including…  
  
“Yes!” Sam hissed, pulling out a flashlight triumphantly.   
  
Flicking it on, he shone it out the windows. Most of them were blocked, aside from the rear, which was sharply tilted up at a 45 degree angle, giving him a distant view of the ceiling of the motel room.   
  
Good. Still in the room then.  
  
The rest of the windows were surrounded by a combination of black, peach…  
  
Skin.  
  
He realized where he was the second the beam of the flashlight landed on an enormous mouth, leaning against the driver's side door. Whoever it was, they were clearly asleep. And now Sam had a good feeling he knew who was out there.   
  
His fears were vindicated when the light of the flashlight played across a smattering of familiar freckles, dashed over an even larger nose. It was a helluva lot more detail than he was used to, but that didn’t change who it was.  
  
Dean.  
  
His brother was fucking  _cuddling_  the Impala.  
  
If he hadn't been in danger of being crushed along with the tiny car, Sam would have laughed at the ridiculous sight. Dean had probably had  _dreams_  about snuggling his precious car. But Sam  _was_  in danger of being crushed, as a small shift from Dean tossed him down from the seat again. The driver’s side mirror screeched unhappily as the pressure against it increased.   
  
Sam managed to pick himself up off the floor again, freezing as he expected the car to give way at any moment. With a deep exhalation and a muttered “Happy Thanksgiving,” that filled the car with hot, humid breath, Dean settled back down  
  
Sam wrinkled his nose at the gust of air. So much for Dean not having bad breath. Chinese for dinner had taken care of  _that_. Pushing away those thoughts, Sam focused. He had no idea how he and the car had got in this situation, but if he didn’t get himself out of it, Dean might crush them both without noticing until he woke up, which would do Sam and the Impala no good whatsoever. The air inside the car moved, swirling from each breath Dean took. Sam’s hair became an unhappy mess in the humidity, sweat dripping down his neck.  
  
“ _Dean!_  ” Sam shouted, hoping he could wake his brother up easily. “Dean, get your fat ass up!”  
  
Nothing.   
  
He shouted a few more times, hoping to break through the exhausted haze Dean was sleeping though, but it quickly became clear that Dean was lost to the world. Or Sam was too quiet. Either way.   
  
The car shook again with Dean’s movements, the arm wrapped around the car pressing harder against the doors as he moved. Sam gulped. That arm was enormous, well-muscled and clearly outclassed even the metal of the Impala if Dean tightened his grip much more.   
  
He didn’t have much time.  
  
Sam went for the horn, determined to wake his brother up or else, but froze with his hand inches away. An unhappy realization came over him.  
  
The last time he’d woken up Dean by popping a bag of chips in his ear as a joke, Dean had dove for his gun - or this case, the demon knife - under the pillow, leveling it at Sam from practiced experience before he’d even fully woken. If Sam honked the horn this close to Dean’s ear, the result would likely be the same. Dean would dive for the knife, and the car would either go flying or get pancaked before Dean realized what was actually going on. Such a violent wake up could crush them both instead of saving them.  
  
Starting to panic, Sam dug through his pockets. Where the hell was his phone… when he remembered the phone going flying when he’d woken to almost being stepped on. Saying a brief prayer it hadn’t fallen out the car when Dean was handling the Impala earlier, Sam dug through the belongings strewn across the floor. His heart leapt when his hand closed on the familiar body of his phone.   
  
He had Dean’s number up in a heartbeat and hit  **SEND**.  
  
Easy ignoring the stringent ringtone, Dean's violent cuddling continued. He jostled the Impala and its occupant as he adjusted his position on his stomach, a tightness welling up in him. He was back in the strip club dream now. A smokin' brunette with a red g-string was strutting down the empty hall to him. Pat Benatar played on repeat in the background. The hottie cut herself a piece of pie and dipped her finger in the gooey cherry filling. She brought the finger to her glossy scarlet lips and sucked it off, looking at Dean with a sultry glint. A crooked smile hung on his lips as he watched her amble closer, bringing another fingertip of pie filling for him to suck off. Before he knew it, they were locked in a passionate embrace, his hands wandering all over her perfect body.   
  
“ **I can’t wait to see the look on your face** ,” a strange little voice whispered loudly into his ear.   
  
Dean broke away, looking around for the source of the voice. No one else was there.   
  
"Hello?" he bellowed.   
  
He only got a series of snickering laughter in reply.  
  
Now a ringing, getting louder, louder and louder still...  
  
An eerily deep groan escaped Dean's relaxed lips as he rolled onto his back, the Impala tucked in the crook of his arm. The prior weight was relieved off of the car as he stirred awake. He shot out an arm and groped for the phone.   
  
"Hello?" he answered groggily, propping himself up in bed.   
  
All he got in reply was brief shout of fear, right at the moment he realized something was rolling down his front.   
  
"Holy shit!" Dean gasped.   
  
His arm shot out and caught it on pure reflex, eyes ballooning when he saw he was holding the Impala in his hand. He shot an accusing look at the nightstand. Hadn't he left it there? Hadn't he specifically set it far enough away that this shit wouldn't happen?  
  
"Sammy?" he croaked, clasping the car desperately between two hands and peered into the driver's side window. It was dark but he could see a tiny body picking itself up off the seat. "Shit, Sam. Say something."  
  
The second Dean rolled over, Sam lost all sense of where he was. The Impala flipped over, tossing him against the ceiling with everything else in the car. He caught sight of a huge arm, far thicker around than the Impala, right outside the window. It was clutching them against an even larger chest, right when Dean sat up in bed, releasing the Impala without realizing what was in his arms as he went for the phone.  
  
There wasn't any time to celebrate waking Dean up as the car, no longer held in place, started to roll down the increasingly steep slope of Dean's chest. Sam was tossed into the backseat as it rolled, the rest of the objects in the car flying around haphazardly. He heard a voice, echoing between the phone, which he somehow still had clutched in his hand, and a much louder version outside. As the car flipped around again, continuing its rapid descent and tossing Sam to the ceiling again, he couldn't get out more than a strangled shout.  
  
The car jolted to a sudden halt seconds later, Sam slamming into the backseat again. He struggled to right himself, hampered by his inner ear balance being completely off. Dean's voice echoed around him as he recovered, and Sam couldn't help flinching away from the huge green eyes peering in the still-open driver's side window, far closer now than they'd been before. “Holy crap!” Sam gasped out. He hated this feeling of helplessness and vulnerability, which was only enhanced by the sight of the huge hands clutched around the car.  
  
The hands unfolded into a steady platform beneath the car. Suddenly desperate to get into open air, and away from the walls closing in on him, Sam yanked the door open, not caring it was still dark in the room. He tumbled to the ground as his legs refused to hold him upright.  
  
Laying there on Dean's palm, he took a few deep, steadying breaths in the fresh air, slowly focusing his mind again. Pain stabbed his lungs as he did, probably from being tossed around in the car like a rag doll.  
  
Eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, Sam was able to meet Dean's eyes and see the guilt and anguish that filled them.  
  
"Dean..." he managed to get out haltingly. "What the hell?" He finally managed to sit up, bracing his arms against the hot, leathery skin he was sitting on. "The Impala..." he coughed, his lungs burning from the movement. "...is  _not_... your teddy bear!"  
  
Dean looked about as shocked to hear this as he was mortified.   
  
"What? Okay, I was  _not_..." the rest of his protest withered in his throat as he received the death glare to end all death glares from his little brother. He settled for clearing his throat awkwardly.   
  
His eyebrows knit together in concern as he felt Sam's tiny, heaving breaths against his palm. Carefully as he could, he closed his other hand around half the Impala and set it aside so both hands could be at Sam's disposal.  
  
"Dammit, I can't even check you for a concussion," Dean growled under his breath. He cupped his hands close to his chest, keeping Sam's wavering balance in mind.   
  
He was a friggin' useless mess. In the few hours since Sam had shrunk, he felt like he’d turned into a weapon of mass destruction with a faulty trigger. This was the second time he'd almost killed his brother in under 12 hours.   
  
"I'm sorry, man. I dunno what happened-" Dean stopped short, his entire body tensing. He sniffed the air. Another deep whiff. It was faint, but he knew that scent anywhere.   
  
"You smell that?" Dean lowered his chin to Sam. "Smells like sulfur."  
  
Sam sniffed the air hesitantly. After being treated to Dean's morning breath up close and personal, he had a harder time separating out smells... but it was there. Faintly.  
  
"Yeah..." he said. "I'd recognize that smell anywhere. And at least it smells better that your morning breath." He glanced up in time to catch a half-hearted glare shot down at him by his brother. Sam smirked in response, feeling a bit more like himself.   
  
He tried to stand up, but his legs were still jelly from his early morning roller coaster ride in the Impala. Giving up, he settled for sitting up straight in the hands. He surreptitiously rubbed his ribs, hoping he hadn't bruised them too bad. "You want to take a look around for sulfur, see where it's coming from?" he called up to Dean, partly because it was the next thing they should do but mostly to keep Dean from worrying too much about how badly he’d been hurt. And it wasn't like he’d be any help searching the motel room.  
  
Dean nodded distractedly. He twisted around in bed and lowered his hands to the warm creased indent left behind on his pillow. He managed to keep his cool this time as little Sam scooted off onto the fabric.   
  
"Just... don't move," Dean told him, practically pleading in his gruff tone.   
  
He got out of bed and sniffed the air again. The odor was so faint, it could easily be chalked up to paranoia. But he had a two and a half inch brother sitting behind him. Paranoia was their best asset right now. He walked over to the fridge anyway, checking the leftover Chinese to see if it had spoiled. They were fine.   
  
He gave the rest of the room a thorough sweep, but the smell seemed to fade away. Dean was about to throw in the towel when he caught whiff of it again, closer to the bed. He dropped to his knees, smelling the sheets... the Impala! He picked it up and gingerly gave it a once over. A mild odor of sulfur clung to the seats. Dean's eyes drifted to Sam and stuck there.   
  
"Sorry, Sammy,” he said, reaching out to pinch the back of his plaid shirt between a finger and thumb. "Have to be sure."  
  
He plucked Sam up easily, hoping that the swiftness would make up for the rudeness. The rotten wisp of air hung around Sam in a way that reeked of things worse than bad breath. Dean drew back in surprise, plunking Sam down almost immediately in his free hand.   
  
"It's  _you_ ,” he said, eyebrows skyward.  
  
"W-what?" Sam cried out, scrambling back on the massive hand. He tried to push away the feeling he'd gotten when Dean picked him up so easily between a finger and thumb, his movements so fast and so huge Sam hadn't had a chance of resisting.  
  
And that was nothing next to how it felt to be  _sniffed_. Held up to a nose and mouth bigger than he was, helpless to free himself. Brother or not, it wasn't a great feeling.  
  
Sam didn't want to ever think about that again. Or the fact that Dean could pretty much do whatever he wanted to with Sam, even though Sam knew he  _wouldn’t._  
  
He manage to stand up, slightly wobbling on the palm as he patted himself down, trying to find a reason for the smell of sulfur. Of course, nothing jumped out at him like he was hoping. He turned back to Dean, who still had the surprise covering his face. "How can  _I_  smell like sulfur? Or the Impala? We haven't been near any demons lately!"  
  
"That we know of," Dean correctly darkly.   
  
He frowned. He wasn't seeing any mustardy powder residue anywhere, which was strange. The smell and residue tended to go hand in hand. It worried him-- what kind of demon would have the juice for something of this magnitude? There had been no other omens; no drastic weather changes or livestock deaths. Nothing to indicate demonic activity at all.   
  
Dean picked up the Impala again and shook his shrunken duffel bag to the front seat, pouring it out onto the foot of the bed. He gingerly set the car down, pushing the door closed with a thumb. The duffel bag had already been unzipped from Sam's search for the flashlight, and as it plunked onto the bedspread, many of its contents spilled out: clothes, weapons, and teeny tiny skin mags. Dean couldn't help but snag one of his favorite Led Zeppelin t-shirts between a finger and thumb, gaping at how this shirt had fit him perfectly just yesterday.   
  
"Maybe you're infected. Like the Croatoan virus..." Dean caught the dubious look Sam was wearing and arched an eyebrow at him.  "You got any better ideas, I'm all ears."  
  
He finally found what he was looking for. The massive hand retrieved a metal flask of holy water out of the miniature mess and dropped it in Sam's lap. It was worth a shot.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam watched with slack-jawed amazement as Dean picked up the Impala, shaking it slightly until his duffel tumbled out onto the bed.   
  
Even at the size of a mountain, Dean was good enough with his hands to handle his miniature duffel bag, managing to not crush any of the items inside as he spilled them out onto the bed. Sam stared with an identical expression of shock as Dean as his brother gingerly held up one of his own t-shirts, dwarfed by the fingers holding it.  
  
Hearing Dean's theory, Sam shot a dubious look up at his brother. A virus causing him to shrunk? Unlikely... especially since the last demonic virus they'd encountered hadn't affected Sam, even when covered the blood of one of the afflicted.  
  
He kept quiet though, humoring Dean as he watched the huge fingers gingerly pick through the tiny belongings. Dean found what he was searching for, pinching something between the massive fingers before Sam could make it out.  
  
Understanding blossomed when a few seconds later a tiny flask of holy water was lightly dropped into his lap. He picked it up dubiously. "If you say so...." he muttered, still doubtful.  
  
Twisting off the cap, he took a small mouthful, swishing around the stale water for a moment before swallowing it down.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He glanced up at Dean, silently shaking his head.  
  
Dean couldn't hide his disappointment. He tilted his head mournfully at Sam, curling his fingers towards his tiny brother protectively. Both of them were at a complete loss, and the fact that it hadn't worn off overnight didn't go amiss. A new, terrifying question surfaced: What if Sam was stuck this small permanently? It was something neither of them were willing to voice, but the shadows in each gaze gave away.  
  
The hair on the back of his neck rose as a familiar chill ran down his spine, the kind of gut sensation he had developed through a lifetime of living through people's worst nightmares. Not a heartbeat later, a round of laughter came out of thin air. It felt more real this time, less ghostly. Dean started to look around, only to come nose-to-nose with a tiny person perched on his right shoulder. He yelped and swatted it off on pure instinct. Dean cupped Sam close to his front, accidentally pressing him into the folds of his shirt as he leaned down to rummage through the sheets.   
  
"I told you!" The voice- it was a girl's voice- was now back on his shoulder. "You should have seen the look on your faces-- _Priceless!_  "  
  
Dean grimaced, desperate to get a good look at her as she leaned shamelessly on his neck for support. While the boys remained stony-faced, her cute rosy cheeks bore evidence of having been laughing for quite some time.  
  
Sam flinched slightly as the huge fingers curled around him, unable to prevent a small sliver of intimidation from worming its way into his mind. He'd probably never get used to being this small.  
  
The hand beneath him tensed with the introduction of a familiar laugh, filling the room with gleeful peals. Sam tried to see where it was coming from, but before he could do anything, Dean gave a start of surprise above him, a deep cry filling the air.  
  
At the same time, the hand cupped around Sam suddenly smooshed him against Dean's chest, luckily not hard enough to get squashed. "Ack, Dean!" he tried to cry out, but it was muffled by the soft fabric surrounding him. He had trouble getting free of the fabric even after Dean loosened his grip, still too distracted to notice Sam's plight.  
  
Finally managing to kick free of the fabric, Sam went to stalk to the side of the hand away from the flannel wall rising behind him. He was so distracted, he didn't notice the intruder until she materialized on the fingertips nearby, showing no sign of fear at her proximity to a giant.  
  
She was much taller than Sam, easily three or four times his height. Which still put her tiny compared to Dean, but Sam didn't like his own chances taking her on. She had rosy cheeks full of laughter and a smile that could light up a room. But, Sam's eyes were drawn to her back, to a pair of red bat wings that flickered in and out existence continually. And even when they were there, the room could be seen behind them without a problem. And her head... when it caught the light just right he could almost make out two midnight black horns, curving around the shadow of her skull.  
  
Then they vanished, leaving a teeny girl that was mostly human, standing perfectly balanced on fingertips.  
  
She giggled at him. "You are the most  _adorable_  little toy! And with your own car, too! I could just eat you up! You're  _so_  much more fun than the last girl, always with the running and the screaming!"  
  
She went to reach for Sam, making him dive back on the hand.  
  
Dean jolted into action, flicking the tiny girl right off his hand. She yelped, plummeting all the way to the floor.   
  
"You need to back the  _fuck_  off!" Dean shot his hand under his pillow, clutching the handle of the demon blade in a practiced hand. He barely caught the shout of surprise from his hand as he walled Sam into nearly darkness, curling the hand holding him into a loose fist. Despite light pouring in through his fingers, there was still a decent amount of breathing room inside his protective grasp.  
  
He stood up with the knife held at the ready, but the floor was clean of tiny girls.   
  
"That seems a bit harsh. I'm just having a little fun!" the girl's voice scoffed behind him. Dean whirled, and she was now lounging on his pillow. He wished she would pick a friggin' spot. All this teleporting was making him dizzy. He swung the blade down, pushing the serrated blade up against her throat. Leaning down close, he addressed her in a low voice, knowing he was looking at the source of their troubles dead-on.  
  
"You fix my brother, you little bitch."  
  
Sam gave a shout when the hand he was standing on suddenly curled into a fist, trapping him inside of a wall of flesh. He tumbled down a steep slope of skin, falling into a divot in the fist. “Dean, what the hell!” he cried out, off balance from all the massive movement around him. It was like being on a roller coaster, with nothing holding him down. The fist sealed around him, light leaking through a few tiny cracks.   
  
Sam punched the wall, frustrated at his helplessness in the situation. He couldn’t even help Dean out with a girl less than a foot tall. Frickin’ useless.   
  
Another shift from Dean outside sent him flying into the wall of fingers behind him. He could hear the girl taunting his brother distantly, oddly fearless for her size. Another shift from Dean, and Sam could actually see out, the massive bed stretching out underneath the hand holding him safe.  
  
The girl gave a smirk as she caught sight of Sam, then glanced up at Dean, ignoring the knife as big as she was Dean was holding to her throat. “Fix? Why would I ‘fix?’ We only just started to play, silly!” Another jump and her voice came from behind and above Sam, on Dean’s back. Dean almost stumbled forward, the knife plunging into the pillow in shock.  “Unless you wanted to play too? Don’t worry, I won’t leave you out!  I  _love_  making new friends! And you’re both so  _adorable!”_  
  
Sam felt his pulse pounding as he realized she could easily make Dean just as small, leaving them helpless and vulnerable to anything that caught their scent, including her. Whatever _she_  was.  
  
Dean gasped, the knife plunging forward into the empty air the tiny girl had only just occupied. Before he could get a bearing on where she had evaporated to, he suddenly felt a tiny pair of legs settle upon his shoulder blade. He kept the fist bearing Sam locked against his stomach to ensure he wasn't jostled more than necessary. He whipped his head around, stiffening to see her draped across his shoulder, looking up at him with a lazy smile. He shuddered to think if any other hunters could see the infamous Dean Winchester now- dazed, confused, and losing a battle to a fucking Barbie doll.  
  
Dean stilled, understanding the thinly veiled threat underneath her sickly sweet tone. She’d shrunk Sam... shrunk Baby... There was no stopping this little creep from screwing them over worse. She crawled up onto his shoulder, making herself at home while sending a smug little smirk down towards Sam, where he was tucked out of sight in a heated prison. Dean clenched his jaw, clutching the knife still in his right hand.    
  
"What is this, play with your food crap?" he growled towards his shoulder, silently willing Sam to stop squirming below. He adjusted his fist carefully around him to compensate.   
  
The girl smiled widely. "Oh no, sweetie-pie. I don't eat my friends. Not my style." She blinked, unveiling a pair of soulless black eyes. The muscles she sat upon tensed in realization. Another blink that they were baby blue once again.   
  
Dean scoffed, lowering his voice to a dangerous tone. "Oh, we are not friends, sister."   
  
She pouted. "We could be... if you'd just loosen up a little."   
  
Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Aren't you a little shrimpy for a demon?"   
  
She scowled, crossing her arms across her chest. "I may not be one of Lucifer's more preferred staff, but I do know how to have a hell of a time." She leaned over and called down, "isn't that right, Sam?"  
  
Sam struggled against Dean’s grip, the small area he was in growing smaller as he felt Dean fighting with the little creature… girl thing. It was unsettling that nothing he did even phased his brother… Dean didn't even seem to notice he’d clenched his fist tighter, holding Sam in darkness.  
  
He could distantly hear the girl arguing with his brother, but her voice was almost drowned out by Dean - even his breathing was loud held right against Dean’s stomach like this. And his voice was practically deafening. With a threat in front of him, Dean had forgotten how delicate Sam’s hearing had become.   
  
After a few moments held that way, the fist loosened around him, letting in fresh air. He caught sight of the tiny girl, standing on Dean’s shoulder far above Sam, grinning down at him.  
  
“I don’t know about you,” he said, hoping his voice was loud enough to be heard. “But almost being crushed twice in a day doesn't fit my definition of ‘fun.’ ”  
  
Her lips turned pouty. “I was watching the whole time!” She winked. “I didn't want to miss a  _second_  of the fun.”  
  
When the girl seemed to have given up grabbing his little brother, Dean uncoiled his fist enough that Sam could sit up in the cupped space. Still, he kept his curled fingers at the ready to shield him from her greedy little fingers again. He had no clue what to expect from a demon of this stature. To his knowledge, none of them possessed the abilities to alter reality like this.   
  
Dean practically winced at the merciless reminder that Sam had almost been killed at his own hands twice in the last eight hours. And from such ordinary, supposedly harmless things like walking and sleeping! He was beginning to see the sick irony. Tearing his gaze from his minuscule brother, Dean sent the little demon a death glare, wanting very mic to shrug her off his shoulder, but afraid she would decide sitting sidesaddle next to Sam was the next best thing.   
  
"What the hell do you want?" Dean hissed.    
  
The girl caught her reflection in the demon blade below and started fixing her choppy brown hair. "Just some good old fashioned entertainment. Eternity is kind of a rip-off. It's boring. And that's where you guys come in!" Satisfied with her hair, she planted her head in her hands and sighed happily at the sight of Sam's glare. "You're going to love my next game."  
  
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Sam growled out, trying to come off as intimidating despite his lacking stature. He was happy to be free from the imprisoning fist, out in the fresher air of motel room.  
  
Her size was deceptive - none of the demons they'd encountered thus far had anything close to this kind of juice. He would have bet his chips on the Trickster, not some strange little girl with demon eyes and wings and horns that flickered between realities. Something nagged at the back of his head, like there was something important he'd forgotten. Like he should  _know_  what she was.  
  
"What kind of games are you playing?" he demanded, keeping his eyes hard as he stared up her. Dean still had his hand cupped down near his stomach, forcing Sam to have to look almost straight to see what going on.  
  
The girl sighed, disappointed by their lack of vision.  "See? This is why I have to do all the work. You two boneheads have no imagination. We'll start with something elementary." She stood up and somersaulted off Dean's shoulder, her bat like wings flicking to life before she disappeared entirely. Dean shot to his feet, looking around wildly.   
  
"The hell?" he murmured, green eyes wide and scouring the motel room for any sign of her. He didn't like the note she had ended on... Like she had more plans for them- particularly Sam, who for all purposes was as helpless as a baby bird right now. He cupped Sam protectively closer, unable to see the invisible hands that wound around Sam's waist and seized him into thin air. There was a small shout, and the weight in his hand was suddenly gone.   
  
"Sam!" Dean bellowed, swiping the knife through the flickering image of the tiny demon-girl. Instead of falling to the ground, she smiled, pulling Sam back in the air, over to the Impala left in the bed. He glanced at the knife. No blood. It hasn't even cut her.  
  
The second he felt far more delicate hands than Dean’s wrap around him, Sam started to struggle. He gave a shout of surprise when all of a sudden he was catapulted into the air, unable to see the girl who had him in her demonic clutches.   
  
She flickered into existence midair, grinning down at him. Seconds later, a massive knife the size of the Impala slashed through the air, safely over Sam’s head. He couldn’t help flinching at the sheer size of his brother as Dean tried to rescue him without accidentally smooshing him. It wasn’t easy with Sam barely two and a half inches tall. The strange girl flickered out of existence the second the knife passed through her, except for the grip she had on Sam. That continued to be as solid as ever.  
  
Flashing back into sight, she stretched out her large bat-wings, flapping away from Dean quicker than the older Winchester could react. Sam found himself placed down next to the Impala on the bed, without a scratch. Not bothering to question his good fortune, Sam dove into the car, grateful for the slight sense of security she provided. He was starting to see what Dean saw in her.  
  
The door slammed closed behind him, helped by a petite hand (compared to Dean’s) that then twisted in midair, gesturing. The locks clicked around Sam and he realized she had him just where she wanted him.   
  
Seconds later, the world went black.


	7. Chapter 7

"NO!" Horrorstruck, Dean threw himself forward, hand outstretched. Not fast enough.   
  
The teeny black car faded, like it was being pulled out of this dimension. Then it flickered out of sight, and Dean's hand landed on the empty space it once occupied. There was a faint tinkling of eerie laughter that faded away, signaling the permanence of the disappearance.   
  
 _No._  He seized the comforter, searching it as if Sam might be just within its folds.   
  
"No, no,  _no..._ " Dean dropped to the floor, his stomach twisted in knots. He peered under the bed, under the table... Behind the nightstand and even in the mini fridge. Backpedaling to the center of the room, Dean looked all around him, listening for life of any kind.   
  
"SAM?!"   
  
The silence that followed was positively crushing.    
  
Dean shut his eyes wearily.  "Fuck."   
  
He sat there at the side of the bed, stewing in his own self-loathing and abject dread for ten minutes. Furious tears he wouldn't admit to stirring up glistened in his eyes, unshed. When he got his hands on that little demon girl, he was going to mince her up like an onion. He had zero leads on where to find Sam in this dump of a town, zero leads on how to  _kill_  whatever that little thing was that had cursed him... and just as much on how to restore Sam to his proper height.   
  
The familiar guitar riff of his ringtone called out for his attention. Dean scrambled to snatch the cell off the nightstand, catching sight of the caller ID. Sam had managed to keep hold of his cell phone during all this. Small blessings.   
  
"Where are you?" he greeted urgently, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice as he cut right to the point.  
  


* * *

  
Sam groaned as he picked himself off of the seat of the car, clutching his head. Whatever had hit him had had more oomph than the last time he'd been zapped. Or maybe being asleep had offset the teleport hangover the other times.  
  
Patting himself down to make sure everything was intact, he glanced out the window of the Impala, afraid of what he'd see. After what he'd been put through in just the last 12 hours, anything could be out there.  
  
Instead of an immediate threat, the outside world seemed... deceptively peaceful. Birdsong floated over to him, a gentle breeze shifted through the open drivers side door. Tall stalks of grass stretched over the Impala to one side, a jagged grey river ran on the other side. Despite the strangeness of everything, Sam recognized a concrete path, winding its way through the grass.  
  
Above everything else, stretching to towering heights, were massive oak trees. Sam could have sworn they stretched thousands of feet in the air, massive branches overshadowing the entire area around him. He'd thought Dean was big, but his older brother, as tall as he was right now, had  _nothing_ on these monoliths. They were so tall that from his perspective the tops of the branches faded out of sight.  
  
Blinking a few times, he pulled himself away from the scenery and back to his own personal problems. From what he could tell, he was sitting in the Impala, on a path through the woods.  _Very descriptive,_ he thought to himself, annoyed. What the hell use would that be in finding his way out?  
  
The sun had edged its way above the horizon, sending the first rays of a new day across the land. The wildlife was starting to come to life more the longer he sat here. Sam decided that his survival was probably best served by getting the hell out of dodge. Even a chipmunk could kick his ass right now, never mind a cat or dog.  
  
Patting himself down, he was relieved to find the keys still safely in his pocket, after all the tumbling he'd gone through the night before during the demonic girl's 'games.' He started up the Impala, switching into drive quickly and starting off. The sidewalk he was on was rough and jagged under the tires, and he didn't want to know what damage it was doing to Dean's precious car, but it was drivable.  
  
After only a minute on the rough road,Sam realized he could feel a rhythmic thudding echoing up through the car. For some reason it seemed to remind him of something he'd felt before. Then it hit him.  
  
Dean's footsteps.  
  
But his brother was assumably back in the motel room. For all Sam knew he was miles away from there now. So, whoever's footsteps was approaching had no idea that Sam was here, might not even spot the car... he floored it. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he spotted a pair of tennis shoes...  _definitely not Dean..._  running at an even keel. Naturally, since the Impala was smaller than either foot, the person was catching up to him without a problem.  
  
His pulse started to race as he lost ground steadily. The Impala just wasn't meant to outrun giants. Memories briefly flashed in his mind of how easily Dean had grabbed the Impala, covering all the ground Sam had gone in less than a second. Fear hitched his breath.   
  
How could you fight against that?  
  
What the hell kind of game were they playing? How the hell could they expect to win when they didn't even know the rules?  
  
He was starting to feel like the demonic girl was toying with them, a cat with her own captive mice. She didn't need to eat them, but she loved to poke and prod them in whatever direction she wanted. If they wanted to come out of this game on top they were going to have to start thinking ahead, try and outmaneuver her. Somehow.  
  
Huge, booming footsteps slammed into the ground less than a foot away from Sam and the Impala, the person running not even taking note of the car he'd almost stepped on. The shoes passed Sam, still running at the same pace.  
  
He started to calm down for a few seconds. He needed Dean. Every fiber of him hated to admit his vulnerability, but there was no way he'd make it without his brother. It was just a fact. There was nothing you could do to defend yourself when you're barely over two inches tall. One wrong step, one slight mistake from  _anyone_ and he was a goner. Him  _and_  the Impala.  
  
Sam took advantage of the brief moment of peace. He could see other joggers now in the distance, out to catch the chill dawn air before the world hearted up properly. He'd done it himself on occasion, enjoying the freedom he found out in the open air, away from the stifling confines of a motel room or car.   
  
Shifting the car into park for a brief moment, Sam gave the Impala a well deserved break. He dug around the seat, searching for his phone. The last place he'd had it had been in the car, but considering he'd been tossed around at the time, he'd lost track of it sometime before tumbling out of the door. With any luck it was in the car and not sitting near Dean’s miniscule duffel bag on the bed, dumped out by his brother with the other items. Completely useless.   
  
He finally found it tucked underneath the seat of the car, against the passenger door. Flipping it open, he dialed Dean’s number in record time.  
  
Before he could even say a word, Dean’s voice filled the air, desperation clear in his voice.  _Guess I’m not the only one panicked here,_  Sam thought wryly before focusing back on the problem. He needed to get out of here before more people came around. His eyes flicked around his surroundings, searching for anything distinctive. “Uh… trees… sidewalk. There’s a bench nearby and I think I’m parked near a trashcan. Dean, I have no idea where I am, I can’t tell anything from down here. Even the _grass_  is taller than the Impala. Some guy already almost  _stepped_  on the car, and I can see more joggers out now. Dean… I don’t know what to do.”  
  
"Told you jogging was bad for you," Dean pointed out with a brief smirk at the irony.   
  
The slim hope that maybe the little bitch had at least switched tactics was dashed. Sam was still bite-sized, and to Dean's horror, currently a wide open target for a quick and painful death by jogger or who knew what else.  
  
"Get off the sidewalk for starters,” he said, marching for the door with the phone to his ear. He doubled back to the bed to scoop up the tiny duffle bag and its contents as an afterthought. At this point, he wasn't sure whether it would come in handy or not. "Is there anywhere nearby you can take cover? Under a bench, maybe? Tree roots?"  
  
Dean felt like he was betraying his precious car by telling him to go off-road and risk straining suspension... But if he didn't, there was a solid chance he'd be left with little but a bloodstained piece of crushed metal. It was a small price to pay for Sam's safety.   
  
Dean slammed the motel door behind him, not bothering the waste the time in locking it. It wasn't like he had anything valuable in there.   
  
"I'm on my way. Just... keep your head down until I get there."   
  
"O-okay," Sam kept the phone by his ear as he shifted the car back into drive. His eyes landed on the immense bench, less than a quarter of a mile away. "Gotcha." He didn't hang up the phone, almost afraid to lose the only lifeline to his brother he had while he was trapped out here alone.   
  
Pushing down on the accelerator, Sam set out for the bench. Thank god he had the Impala with him, he couldn't imagine how screwed he'd be without it. Just the thought of trying to escape on foot... he glanced out the back of the car. He'd have to get on the other side of the sidewalk to reach the bench... at least he should be safe once he got there. Another jogger passed him by, this one on the other side of the concrete, their massive, crushing feet nowhere near the car. This person gave the tiny vehicle a sidelong glance, as though he was confused what it was doing there.  
  
The moment the path was clear again, Sam floored it, getting past the danger zone as fast as he could. It only took him a few moments until he reached the other side, the car jumping in the air when it careened off the edge of the sidewalk. Tiny pebbles bounced under the wheels as the Impala determinedly pushed her way through the grass. At one point, Sam caught sight of a beetle the size of a dog, and a small army of ants marching alongside the ar. He sped up, determined to stay away from any of the creepy crawlies down here. They were enough of a nuisance to a regular sized human, he didn't want to know how dangerous they'd be while he was this small.   
  
"I'm almost there, Dean... the bench is only a little bit away."  
  
Sam glanced around his surroundings, checking on the distance he had from the sidewalk. He'd gone decently far in the car, but realized that to a normal sized person, he was only a few steps away. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a mother walking with her little boy's hand in hers, and a dog keeping pace alongside them.  
  
The dog sniffed the air, its head turning in Sam's direction.  
  
"Fuck."  
  
Dean froze where he stood outside the motel check-in area, rifling through the tourist brochures and flyers for any parks in the area.  
  
"What?" he barked. "Sam, what's-- what the hell is that?" His question turned more insistent as a static-ridden scuffling began to overwhelm the sound of Sam's voice on the other line. It was impossible to tell what it was from his end of the line. To Dean, it sounded like a dragon prepping to lay waste to a village. He hastily scanned through the pamphlets-- closest park was a cute little place called Wallaby Park. He held open the map for a few seconds to try and get his bearings. But as the scuffling got louder on the phone, his luxury of time was cut down even further.   
  
"Oh fuck it," Dean muttered, shoving the map in his back pocket. He took off at a desperate sprint, missing his baby more than ever.   
  


* * *

  
Ian wasn't exactly the most excited seven year old that morning. He was grounded from TV and his mom was making him go on a stupid walk without bringing his transformer toy or phone or anything. She said he had to ‘appreciate nature’ and ‘take responsibility of his pet.’   
  
Pfft. Whatever.   
  
"Oh, Ian honey. Did you see that Cardinal back there?" his mom said cheerfully, looking over her shoulder at a majestic oak. "It was making a nest!"   
  
Ian said nothing, grumpily remaining silent. His mom sighed. "There's just as much to enjoy out here in God's green earth as there is in your video games."   
  
"No there's not," Ian huffed. He let his beagle's lease go slack, ambling along the sidewalk. Without warning, the leash ran taut. "Urrrgh, Odin!" Ian grunted, pulling back on the leash. Odin whined, trying to crawl closer on his belly. Relenting, Ian walked over with him, giving him the necessary slack to keep sniffing around the bench area. The beagle was insistent on his search, his ears perking up when he finally found his treasure.  
  
"What'd you find?" Ian asked, his curiosity peaked when he saw his dog's wet nose rock something shiny and black under the shadow of the bench.  
  
"Ian, let's keep going!" His mom beckoned him impatiently.   
  
"Hang on!" Ian called back.   
  
Odin snorted from the confusing smell, unsure whether to growl or whimper. Luckily, his owner stepped in to continue inspection. Ian reached in and picked up the toy car. He turned it around in his hands, looking over every detail. It felt like one of the nice model cars- made of metal, not plastic. Even the tires felt like they were road worthy.    
  
"Whoa..." He looked around for any kids playing around the area, then grinned. "Good boy, Odin! Free toy!"   
  
"Ian!" His mother started to march over. He spun around, clutching his prize victoriously.  
  
"Look! Somebody left this! You were right mom, nature is great."   
  
His mom raised an eyebrow as he held up the miniature vintage Impala. She softened. It was nice to see something so harmless perk up her little boy's mood again. She took a seat on the bench, getting Odin to sit while Ian took up playing with his new find.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. He'd rolled the window up the second the dog had started to trot in his direction. His phone lay forgotten next to him on the seat. If he'd paused to listen he would’ve heard a steady stream of cursing coming from Dean.  
  
Right before the beagle reached the Impala, it was yanked back. Sam let it a shuddering breath of relief as the dog let out a loud whine, trying to paw at the car.  
  
His relief only lasted for a moment. The dog’s owner let up on the leash, freeing the dog to crawl forward curiously. Before Sam could switch back into gear, a large black nose was snuffling against the side of the door, slightly rocking the Impala from the force. A curious growl filled the air.  
  
As much as Sam normally loved dogs, the last thing he wanted to deal with right now was a pooch big enough to carry around the Impala in his mouth. He was on a whole new level of interaction with the world, and it made him want to find a dark corner, crawl in and never come out.   
  
Sam flinched back from the window when a pair of sneakers stepped up next to the bench. The dog was pulled back, replaced by the smaller, curious hand of the kid that was with the dog.   
  
Sam dove under the seat as the fingers wrapped around the car, or at least, as far as he could fit himself underneath the seat. His 6’4" frame had never been meant to squish into such tight quarters, but despite the flaming pain his shoulder was in from his earlier injury, he managed to make it work. He had no intention of being discovered like this. If his own  _brother_ was dangerous to be around this size, he had no doubt an unknowing child would be even worse.   
  
Especially with Sam barely the length of the kid’s fingers, if that.   
  
Luckily, he didn’t have to worry about the dog using the car as a chew toy with Sam sitting front row to the destruction.  
  
Sam wriggled as far back as he could while the car was tilted at every angle, a shadow falling over Sam as the kid peered in from above. Sam’s phone slipped off the seat, landing a few inches from where his hand was resting. He grabbed for it the second the kid lowered the car from his face. The car jerked to the side without warning, momentarily jarring Sam from his hiding place as the kid went to show his mother his awesome find.  
  
Seeing his call was still connected, Sam put the phone up to his ear, flinching slightly back from Dean’s angry tirade coming over the line.   
  
“Dean?” Sam hissed, eyes flicking out the window to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. “Where the hell are you? Some kid grabbed the Impala!”  
  
"Oh come ON," Dean groaned, sounding short of breath. They just weren't catching a break here. He slowed to a halt. "Hey. I'm in the park. Don't let him get his hands on you, I'm almost there."   
  
He was just beyond the threshold of the playground, and paused to double over to catch his breath while he fiercely scanned each child in eyesight up and down. There were two girls playing in the monkey bars, a toddler eating sand on the ground, a mother helping her son go down the tunnel slide... They were all clear. But Sam hadn't mentioned a playground. Last thing he's said he was near a bench...  
  
Dean took off jogging down the sidewalk. The cramps in his sides complained heartily. He'd said it before and he'd say it again: it just wasn't natural to run everywhere like this. He was practically gasping for air. Despite his better judgement, Dean found himself weighing the pros of working more cardio in his days from now on after this mess died down.   
  
Dean surveyed every group centered around the benches. Many were empty. Some occupied by old ladies enjoying the breeze. A couple teenagers making out--   
  
Dean stopped short. A little boy was kneeling on the ground next to a relaxing dog, pushing a little black car around on the ground. He swerved the car this way and that in pretend pursuit of a government spy. Dean felt queasy, knowing Sam was trapped inside. He could only imagine what the careless handling felt like from the inside.  
  
"Hey!" Dean ran over, closing the last bit of distance between him and the Impala. The kid peered up at the strange man tentatively. Dean hardly noticed as he smiled breathlessly at the sight of the itty bitty car.  _Not smushed like a soda can,_  he noted gratefully.   
  
"I've been looking all over for this. Knew I left it back here somewhere." Dean lowered himself to a crouch, leveling himself with the boy, who was still clutching the car possessively by his side. He held out his hand, reaching for the car. The boy frowned suspiciously.   
  
"This is yours?"  
  
"Yeah, thanks for finding it for me." Dean shook his hand a bit, waiting.   
  
"I don't see your name on it. Besides, finders keepers!" Ian huffed.   
  
Dean's friendly smile dropped into a flat expression. His tolerance for people's crap was in the negative digits. He debated on wrestling it right out of the kid's hands... but remembering how Sam had injured his shoulder just from him grabbing the car mid-rev earlier made Dean decide against this. No, the diplomatic method was the only choice here.   
  
Dean felt around in his jacket for his wallet, and unfolded a five dollar bill. "Tell you what, let's make a trade. Go buy yourself a hot fudge sundae."   
  
"What, do you think I'm stupid mister? I found it fair and square. Go get your own." Ian picked up the Impala, turning it on its side as he cradled it protectively. Dean lunged forward, grabbing the kid's wrist to right the car.   
  
"What's going on here?" A woman he assumed was the kid's mother came over, giving him a death glare for having his hand on her son. Dean hastily took advantage of the kid's shock, prying the Impala out of his grubby little hands and into his own as he stood up. Ian protested but Dean was already on his feet and the car was out of reach.   
  
"Just a misunderstanding here," Dean said calmly. "I lost my car back here. Your son here was kind enough to return it to me." He sent a subtle arch of the brow down at the kid, who looked entirely put out.   
  
"It's not his, mom. He's stealing it!"   
  
Thinking quickly to avoid an arrest for child harassment, Dean felt the bulge of the EMF meter in his jacket pocket.   
  
"If it's not mine, then how do I have the remote control?" Dean challenged him. He pulled out the EMF meter and held it up for them to see. Its strange controls and row of lights were foreign to them, but there was nothing to suggest it wasn't a remote control.   
  
"See?" Dean crouched down and set the Impala between his feet, speaking a bit more forcefully to drive the point home to Sam, who was undoubtedly clinging to every word of the conversation. He angled his boot so that the window of the car was hidden from an overhead view. "If I press this button here..."   
  


* * *

  
" 'Don't let him get his hands on me,' yeah, ‘cause I can totally stop someone when I'm this small. I'll just Hulk out over here," Sam groused grumpily at the phone, unable to force down the panic rising in him. The car suddenly dropped down, Sam clutching the seat as much as he could. It hit the ground, luckily not hard enough to damage the tires. Thinking fast, Sam dove out from under the seat, swiftly switching the car into neutral so the car wouldn't get damaged when it was pushed along the ground. He ducked back under before the kid could catch sight of his tiny form moving past the windshield.  
  
The next few minutes were a combination of terrifying and dizzying as the car was wheeled about on the ground, the little kid whooping and hollering above as he acted out scenes from his imagination. It wasn't long until Sam started to think he might have to find a place to barf. If they ever got back to normal, Dean would just  _love_  that.  
  
Scrunched under the seat as he was, his injured shoulder was jostled constantly, bright sparks of pain flaring up his arm and down his back. If he made it through today, he was going to be recovering for a week.  
  
He lost track of time during this, barely able to hold onto the phone while he was being thrown about. He came back to himself when an overpoweringly  _loud_ , but blessedly  _familiar_  voice rang out overhead.  
  
 _Dean!_  
  
With the kid distracted by his giant brother for a few seconds, Sam dared to slip out from underneath the seat to see where the Impala was.  
  
A huge hand was still wrapped possessively over the top of the car. Past the fingers and the shadow of the boy, Sam's heart leapt when he saw two towering denim-clad legs, stretching up into the sky. Dean was even taller than he remembered, but Sam had never seen a more welcome sight in his life. With his brother nearby, Sam knew everything would somehow be alright. No matter how bleak the situation, they were always better off when they were together.   
  
He watched the two massive boots walk closer, loudly crunching over the sidewalk. Sam was distracted from the sight when the little boy clutched the car even closer by his side. Dean dropped down into a squat, giving a huge smile when his eyes caressed the outside of his car. He gave no sign of even seeing Sam on the inside at all, reminding Sam of his current insignificance to the humans outside. Even his own brother, who knew he was there, had trouble seeing him like this.   
  
He ducked back under the seat, listening to the exchange outside. He held his breath the entire time. It was so strange that his fate hung in the balance of such an innocent-seeming exchange from an outsider's view.   
  
The car was unexpectedly picked up, sending Sam flying against one of the doors when the world tilted sideways. He slumped down with a groan, clutching his injured arm as the car just as suddenly righted. Cracking open an eye, he saw a massive, familiar hand holding the kids wrist, stopping the kid from knocking around the fragile car. Despite everything, Sam couldn't help a wry grin.  _Great job, Dean. Scaring little kids... You're gonna get your ass kicked if this kid's parents are around... thought you were the one that was good with kids..._  
  
Sure enough, seconds later a third voice joined the conversation above Sam. Dean took advantage of the confusion, wrapping an immense hand around the tiny car, managing to free Sam from the kid with one final yank, accidentally tossing Sam to the ground. Sam's stomach dropped through the floor as his giant brother stood to his full height, taking the car with him.   
  
A welcome sensation of safety at last overcame Sam. He slipped out from under the seat, carefully peeking over the edge of the drivers side window so he could see what was going on outside above his head now that he was in a less precarious position.  
  
Dean was being set upon by the mom and the kid. Sam could actually see the situation starting to slip away from Dean's control while they talked. "C'mon, Dean! We're almost home free!" he muttered, silently praying Dean would figure a way out of this that wouldn't end up with him arrested yet again. There wasn't much Sam could do like this aside from cheer his brother on from the sidelines.  
  
And Dean hit on a perfect idea. Sam grabbed the dash as the car was shifted to the side. A massive hand reached into the jacket behind the car, making the huge fabric wall shift behind Sam. Dean pulled out an EMF meter bigger than the Impala, brandishing it like he'd won the Stanley Cup. A smile quirked at Sam's lips when he realized where Dean was going with the idea.  
  
He braced himself when the world rose up, far too fast for comfort. It was like riding the Tower of Terror without any of the built in safeties an amusement park ride would give. At the end of the swift fall, the car was gently placed down, so softly there was barely a bump when the tires touched ground. Sam pulled himself up on the seat again, flinching slightly when he saw the car had been carefully placed between the massive, crushing boots, stretching out longer than the car itself.  
  
But with Dean protecting him, it was the safest place to be. Sam peered up at the giants towering over him, adrenaline pumping when his eyes landed on the mother and the child. Even the dog was eyeing up the car again, from where it was still lying near the bench.  
  
He caught Dean's signal as the boot closest to him shifted slightly, rocking closer to the tiny car. Switching into drive, Sam hit the gas, slowly building up speed. He looped around Dean, keeping a careful distance from the boots at first.  
  
Jealousy filled the little kids eyes, then awe as he watched the tiny car execute moves that ordinary toy cars just couldn't manage. He grabbed his mom's arm, pulling her down in his excitement. "Mooooom, that's the coolest car  _ever!_  I want one!"  
  
After staying around Dean for the most part, the tiny car daringly zipped around the kid and his mom. Sam tried to keep down out of sight for the most part, but he had to admit, he was enjoying the freedom, and with Dean safely nearby he wasn't worried about the car getting stepped on or smashed. It was a nice change from the last twelve hours of pretty much constant panic.   
  
At last, the itty bitty car slowed down next to Dean's boot, stopping in the colossal hunter's shadow. It idled, waiting for its next cue from its 'owner.'  
  
Dean was surprised to find a grin on his face as he watched Sam race around his shoes and loop around the small patch of sidewalk. He had to admit, it was kind of fun to show off his baby like this, while pretending to press buttons on the EMF that didn't exist. A couple of the turns were a bit hard, but overall his kid brother had a good handle on the car. He could only imagine the look on his brother's face way down there. It was hilarious, adorable, and still downright  _weird_.   
  
 _Of all the nutty things we've done to avoid arrest... this takes the cake._  
  
The mini-Impala finally came to a stop, and Dean stooped down to pick it up.   
  
"Sorry, buddy. She's one of a kind,” he announced smugly.   
  
Turning a more withdrawn smile to the mom, he gave her a little nod of acknowledgement. "Sorry for the little misunderstanding."  
  
"Keep your hands off my son, and there won't be any misunderstanding,” she replied icily, easily resisting his charms with the memory of his hand on Ian's wrist.   
  
Dean's smile dropped at the edges. But hey, he had what he came for. No need to drag this out any longer than necessary. He turned away from the mother and son and set out on his way with no further ado.   
  
With the tiny car out of intense scrutiny, there was little chance of its teeny driver being spotted by the casual passerby. Still, Dean deliberately kept his hand wrapped completely around the windows. Not that it was difficult to do with the Impala's barely seven inch length, but useful in keeping its tiny driver undetectable in the resulting shadows. He kept it cradled against his stomach as he walked, hoping to stifle the swinging of his steps.   
  
Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and redialed Sam's number.   
  
"Smooth moves back there, shorty,” he greeted when he heard Sam's voice on the other line. There was nothing quite as disconcerting as talking over the phone with Sam, hearing his voice as large as life... And looking down at the roof of the shrunken Impala, knowing the man he was talking to was even tinier, sitting inside.  
  


* * *

  
Inside the dark cave created by Dean’s hand, Sam slumped back against the seat, exhausted and relieved to be safe off the ground at last. Being down on the ground made the tiny feeling worse, since he was pretty much eye level with the toe of Dean’s boots. He wasn’t even bothered by the sight of the immense fingers pressing against the windows now, knowing Dean would never risk any harm to either of them. And after what he’d gone through the last hour, he appreciated Dean’s conservative movements that much more.  
  
The steady swaying of his brother’s gait lulled him into a blank state of mind until he heard his phone ring by his side. He checked the caller ID.  _Dean._  It was a strange feeling, to have his brother right next to him, technically, but still be unable to talk to each other without the cell phone’s help.  
  
“Hey,” he answered.   
  
Dean’s voice rumbled straight through the car while he talked, the vibrations shaking its tiny passenger. It almost drowned out the smaller version of his voice coming from the phone Sam was holding to his ear. Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s joke.  
  
“Yeah, well at least  _one_  of us has smooth moves. She almost ate you alive out there, man.”  
  
"Hey, I yanked your bacon out of the fire, didn't I?" Dean protested with an arched eyebrow. He paused. "Any word from the World's Smallest Bitch?"  
  
He was walking back to the motel at a leisurely pace. Now that adrenaline was fading, his legs were complaining from the long sprint earlier. His grip on the car was careful but unrelenting. Even a pair of squirrels chasing each other around a tree earned a glare from the blonde hunter. Now even mundane things had the potential for danger regarding Sam.   
  
Sam smirked at that. "Yeah - thanks for that, by the way. Don't know how much more me or the Impala could have taken back there." He checked the doors, using the tiny bit of light slitting through the fingers pressing firmly against the car to see. He could unlock them now. "Haven't heard anything from her since I got locked in the car. I'm sure she can't be far off though. She seems to like to watch." He shook his head. "Takes voyeurism to a whole new level."  
  
His eyes flicked to windshield, trying to see Dean beyond the cupped hand. From here all he could make out were the shadows Dean's jacket cast, swaying in time with the thudding footsteps that echoed up through the car. "Where we heading, anyway?"  
  
"Gonna grab a bite to eat on the way back to the room." Dean replied. "Only place within walking distance is--" he squinted at the white and red sign projected above the corner florists. "--Rudy's Shake Shack."   
  
His sigh at the lack of better options rattled through the phone. "God, I miss my wheels. This demon bitch can take her kinky hijinks and shove it up her ass."   
  
There was a pause as he lowered the phone to cross the street. One impatient car honked at him to hurry up. Dean turned around to shoot the driver a dirty look. Didn't they know what precious cargo he was carrying?   
  
"Asshole,” he muttered under his breath, bringing the phone back up to his ear. "Hey give me your order, then hang up. You better save your battery. We don't know how long she's planning on keeping you bite-sized."   
  
“Yeah, good idea.” Sam yawned. Taking a second to think, he turned the car off and tucked away the key. Might as well save the Impala’s gas, too.  “Just get me… a salad or a chicken sandwich. Whatever they have there.” Sam gave one last wistful look out the blocked windows. “And try to keep the roller coaster effects to a minimum out there.”  
  
He shut the phone with a strange reluctance, knowing that now he’d be able to hear Dean just fine… but Dean would have no idea if he was even talking from this far away.   
  
Stretching out in the seat, Sam bunched up his jacket, laying down to rest his eyes. Ignoring the occasional rumble echoing through the car from Dean, he drifted off into a light doze. The gentle rocking of his brother's footsteps outside helped lull him away from the waking world.  
  
Dean's eyes slid down when the Impala stopped vibrating. It was such a slight intonation, he was surprised that was the whole engine. He ached to hear his baby roaring purr... He wouldn't even mind hearing Sam bitch about his taste in music right about now.   
  
Dean held the Impala on his lap while he was ordering and waiting around at the countertop seating of the diner. The waitress gave him an odd look when he kept one hand under the counter the whole time, but kept her opinions to herself.   
  


* * *

  
The brothers reconvened back in the motel room for a much needed break from their silence. Considering Dean hadn't a chance in the world to fit inside the Impala at its current size, the motel room they were renting out was the only private place secure enough for the hunters to interact openly. Eating a meal together was still nowhere near comfortable, and Dean hoped dearly that it wasn't something he would have to get used to. Dean flicked on the news, an excuse to watch the screen instead of each other.   
  
"Waitress said library was a ten minute walk from here," Dean said thickly, savoring his deluxe cheeseburger. "Figure we should head down there, see what kind of satan-groupie we're dealing with."  
  
Sam pulled himself out of an uneasy sleep full of laughter and winks from a certain small black-eyed girl to find the Impala being placed down on the motel room table. Dean was still busy pulling out food from the house sized bag when Sam got out of the car, stretching his arms over his head to wake up.   
  
He accepted a small piece of chicken sandwich from Dean and started eating while his brother turned the news on. Once Dean started eating his own food, Sam ended up moving farther away to get a little space. Crumbs showered down with almost every bite Dean took, so Sam was wisely kept his distance. Not that Dean noticed; he couldn't possibly. Once he was far enough away for comfort, he sat down to enjoy his food.   
  
Dean fell quiet as the news anchor went on to tell about a homicide in the neighboring county. Hunter instincts on edge, he listened attentively, reading between the lines to see if the killer was a man or a monster. One handedly, he groped for a fry as he kept his eyes locked on the footage of the break-in. Dean popped the fry in his mouth and went back for another- only this time, his aim was off and his fingers clumsily dropped around a canvas jacket and lean waist.   
  
For a while, they both ate in peace. Sam didn’t even look up at Dean when he saw the news story about the homicide start up on the TV, equally interested in a story that could have a possible connection to their case. Because of this, he didn’t realize his danger until it was too late.  
  
Without warning, two massive fingers locked around his waist, tightening their grip around him to an almost uncomfortable level. “What?” Sam said, briefly confused. He glanced up at his brother and felt his heart drop when he saw Dean still staring riveted at the TV, distractedly chewing on his food. Dean clearly had no idea he had Sam in his hand - anytime he’d held Sam before he’d stayed as focused on his brother as possible, knowing how easily Sam could be injured by a single wrong move from the larger hunter.  
  
“Dean!” Sam yelled when the hand suddenly lifted, taking him off the table into the air with a casual motion. Dean swallowed down the fry already in his mouth in one swift movement, making Sam’s mouth drop in shock when he realized his brother had just swallowed food  _bigger_  than he was. The hand steadily moved over to the mouth, Dean taking no notice of Sam’s struggles. He was still distracted by the news, the TV easily drowning out his sibling's horrified shout.   
  
Sam stared in horrified awe as the gigantic maw opened up in front of him while Dean unknowingly moved his little brother - the one person he cared for most in the world - over the deadly abyss. Understanding exactly how much danger he’d be in if Dean didn’t realize what he had in his hand, Sam tried to get free of the fingers. The realization of how easily he could end up in the same situation as Dean’s now nonexistent sandwich gave his struggles a panicked desperation Sam rarely showed. Unfortunately, Dean was either too distracted by the television to notice, or Sam’s struggles were too small to pull his brother’s attention to himself in the first place.  
  
Sam found himself helplessly carried over teeth the size of his forearm when the grip of the fingers suddenly loosened, dropping him into Dean’s mouth with no other warning. “No!” he yelled as he briefly fell through the air. The light from the outside disappeared as the enormous mouth sealed shut behind him with a sickening finality.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam was soaked in saliva within seconds of being tossed in Dean's mouth. An oppressive warmth surrounded him in the humid enclosure. Without warning, Sam found himself helplessly swept to the side of the mouth - his  _brother's_  mouth - by a muscular tongue. He struggled fruitlessly, his muscles no match for a tongue bigger than his body. Dean showed no sign of recognition as he unknowingly pushed Sam onto the massive teeth, just like every other morsel he ate. Except this time, it wasn't food being put between his teeth.  
  
 _"Dean!"_  Sam shouted, desperate to get  _out_  get  _away._  
  
The huge teeth closed around him, pressing down on his legs insistently. Sam tried to twitch free, his foot stuck between two of his brother's massive molars. Sam peeked an eye open, surprised when the teeth didn't finish biting down. He heard a noise behind him, from outside the mouth. Not like it mattered. Everything out there was out of his reach like this.  
  


* * *

  
Immediately, the weight and feel of the morsel was way off. It wasn't light and flaky, it was too dense and soft.   
  
"Investigators have identified the main suspect as the ex-fiancé of the victim, Robert Hope." The tv droned in the background as Dean frowned, pushing the lump the the side of his mouth with his tongue. His back teeth closed lightly around what tasted like denim.  _Denim?_  Dean shot a glance at the table.  
  
Sam was gone.  
  
Suddenly, he couldn't hear the TV at all. He had fucked up big time. Words couldn't describe the horror that welled up within him when he realized what was in his mouth.   
  
Dean grunted mutely and slapped a hand over his mouth. A gag reflex verging on nausea told every part of him to  _get Sam out_. Dean spat him out into the palm of his left hand. Sure enough, there was Sam, sputtering and looking entirely disoriented as he lay on his side, glistening with saliva.   
  
The world suddenly shook around Sam and few disorienting seconds later, he found himself spat out of Dean’s mouth. He landed hard on a warm, spongy surface, coughing desperately in the crisp, fresh air. Sam twitchily checked to make sure he was still in one piece. He patted down his body, still full of panic from his close call. The foot Dean had bit down on was missing a shoe, but aside from that, Sam was shocked to find himself still whole and mostly unharmed from the ordeal.  
  
The entire ordeal had all happened in a matter of seconds, but the nature of the close call made the moment feel like hours had drawn out.   
  
Despite Sam being freed, something small kept jabbing into Dean’s gum. He worked it out with his tongue, then spit out the little speck into his other hand. It was Sam's shoe. His heart dropped at the miniscule item.  
  
"Sammy," Dean breathed. "I fucked up. I fucked up, I'm so sorry."  
  
Sam pushed himself to a sit, rubbing his head. Hearing Dean's loud voice come from above, Sam jerked back, holding his arms in front of him defensively. No matter how his mind told him Dean was just trying to make sure he was alright, he couldn't push away the fear he felt looking at that massive mouth, still far to close for comfort. A hot breath of air hit him while Dean talked, further increasing his desperation to get away. Sam was still in enough shock that he didn't notice the ground under him trembling from Dean's own panic. Sam couldn't even pull himself together enough to  _talk_  to his older brother.  
  
Dean’s hand was practically trembling and his lunch threatened to make a reappearance. It had been so thoughtless, so easy that he hadn't even noticed Sam's distress.   
  
 _I almost ATE my little brother. How the fuck could that even happen? What is wrong with me?_  
  
"Are you okay?" Dean asked, gentle but urgent. The tiny boot was dumped next to Sam as Dean raised his free hand to pat him down. When nothing appeared to be broken or sticking out at the wrong angles, Dean pulled up the cuff of his shirt sleeve and tried to dab the spit off him. It wasn't exactly easy when his teeny little brother wouldn't hold still.   
  
When the boot was dropped next to Sam, it started to pull him slightly out of his panicked funk. Then he saw Dean's other hand moving for him. Sam tried to jerk out of the way, which didn't work well with him still sitting on Dean's palm. A huge weight moved gently over his arms and legs as Dean checked to make sure Sam wasn't hurt.   
  
 _He wouldn't have to check if you'd just TALK to him..._  
  
But Sam still couldn't bring himself to say anything to his brother. His mind just kept replaying the last few minutes over and over mercilessly while Dean gently patted down his arms and legs with a broad fingertip.  _The same fingertip that tossed me in his mouth like just another piece of food..._ Sam thought to himself, still desperately trying to pull away.  
  
His attempts at escape were pathetic, compared to the sheer power Dean's hand imposed on him. Sam had no way to stop him. And he knew Dean meant well, Sam just couldn't manage to get over what had just happened.   
  
Sam's twitchy, panicky reaction to his oversized concern was heartbreaking to watch. Sam wasn't supposed to be weak and frightened. He was the best hunter he knew. The kid had taken down vampires, demons, and shapeshifters... And yet it was Dean himself that had frightened him into having a fit.   
  
 _What have I done,_  Dean thought morbidly.  
  
Dean's heart pounded insistently. He could still  _taste_  him. The denim and skin and leather and raw  _fear_  still stuck to his tongue like an horrible aftertaste. That thought was enough to send the nauseous guilt over the edge.   
  
Dean burst into the bathroom, shaking Sam off onto the counter and making it to the toilet just in time to toss his cookies. He hung over the edge, eyes squeezed shut as he white knuckled the porcelain.  
  
 _That could have been Sam,_  his mind oh-so-helpfully reminded him. Dean panted, unable to escape the carelessness of his actions. _Some big brother you are. It's like some part of you actually wants him dead._  
  
After a few more minutes of this, Dean got to his feet and cleaned up. He glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye worriedly as he rinsed his mouth out with tap water.   
  
 _At least it doesn't taste like him anymore._  
  
Sam buried his head in his knees to the intensified sounds of Dean retching in the toilet. And watching Dean after, washing his mouth out with water -  _I was in there, I was actually IN there a few minutes ago_ \- still freaked Sam out.  
  
Neither seemed to be aware of the time spanned between them at this point. Dean stood over Sam, watching him with a grim calm now that had his freak out.  
  
"Look man, if you don't want to talk to me, I get it." Dean said, keeping his voice blessedly low.   
  
Another pregnant pause spanned out before his green eyes touched upon the sink. He turned on the hot and cold faucets and plugged up the sink so a nice warm stream began pooling at the bottom.   
  
Sam watched Dean fill up the sink. He couldn't stop the shakes wracking his body. He was getting a little better, but he still couldn't bring himself to meet Dean's eyes while he talked so far over Sam's head.  
  
 _C'mon, no matter what happened, it's still Dean. And he just wants to make sure you're ok._  
  
And he knew that was true, better than anyone else. But he still couldn't push what had happened out of his mind. His jacket was soaked... by Dean's  _saliva..._  even his pants were pasted to his legs... hell, he was surprised his boot was in one piece after what it had gone through. A simple, everyday motion from his brother had almost cost him everything.  
  
Sam still couldn't believe how close it had been... how fast it had all happened. One minute sitting there, finishing off his chicken. The next fighting for his life... against Dean. He shook his head, trying to clear out the painful thoughts from his mind. Dean shouldn't be so dangerous to be around. Sam shouldn't be so  _small._  This whole situation was fucked up.  
  
The running water came to a stop after it filled the bottom of the sink. Sam forced himself to meet the worry in Dean's eyes, magnified by their size. Somehow, he knew that no matter how much this panicked him, Dean would bury himself in even more guilt and blame. He needed to get out of this funk, get back to  _normal_  somehow. "I... I'll be fine," he managed to get out. "Just... give me a few minutes. Alone. Please."  
  
Dean hesitated. After nearly losing him again by his own hand, Dean was hesitant to leave his side. But then again, it wasn't like he had been a whole lot better off with him right there with him. With a final, heavy look, Dean agreed.   
  
"I'll leave the door open halfway. Holler if you need me."   
  
His heavy steps bore a certain melancholy as he left the room. The huge door swung halfway shut before Dean's steps faded away deeper into the room. Distantly, the bed springs squeaked under a settling weight, followed by a stricken sigh.    
  
Once Sam began to strip down, the silent observer made herself visible again. The demon-girl appeared again, her blonde hair pulled back to show off her cute face. She wore a coy smile, lounging behind Sam wearing a skimpy bikini, watching as Sam stripped off his jacket and started to work off the saliva soaked shirt next. She was smaller this time, unclear where from depleted powers from interfering or perhaps just as a comfort to Sam. She grinned when he turned around at last and caught sight of her.   
  
"Don't stop on my account,” she purred.   
  
Sam kept the surprise from showing on his face, knowing she was fishing for a reaction. He turned back to his clothes, scrubbing more vigorously in the lukewarm water. His pants were already feeling cleaner from standing in the water. “Don’t you have anyone else to go bother?” he grumbled at her.  
  
Smirking, she unfurled her wings and launched into the air with a powerful flap. Hovering over his head, she snatched his shirt from his hands. With a ripple, she was gone, landing back up on the sink. “Mmm, I kinda like this show,” she chuckled as she watched him flounder in the water, caught off guard by her quick, fluid movements.  
  
This time, she stood the same height as Sam, as evidenced by the shirt she held out in front of her. She tossed it to the side, enjoying the glare he sent up at her. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” Sam growled out. “Toying with me.”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not  _toying_  with you Sammy. Get over yourself.” She stretched out on the edge of the sink, showing off her lean figure.  
  
Sam tried to keep from looking at her but kept getting distracted by her demonic wings and horns shifting in and out of reality. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. At one point he could’ve sworn a forked tail swished over her legs.  
  
“Only my  _brother_  gets to call me that,” Sam snapped. Reminded of Dean, his eyes flicked towards the door. Would Dean hear him from here if he yelled?   
  
Before he could test his theory, she twisted her hand again, the same way she’d done it when locking him in the Impala. The immense door to the bathroom shut with a soft click, sealing him off from Dean.  
  
“It’s just you and me, Sammy,” she purred, staring at him from behind her shining blonde bangs.  
  
"I don't see what you're freaking out about." She sighed when Sam shot her a death glare from down in the basin of the sink. " _Okay,_  so it was a little...frisky. But I kept my word didn't I? I didn't let you get hurt. Hell, you even got your shoe back!"   
  


* * *

  
Dean snapped his head up when the door clicked shut.  _Not Sam._    
  
He patted himself down for the holy water flask, then let out a hushed "son of a  _bitch!_  " when he remembered it was the size of his fingernail at the moment. He crept up to the door stealthily, pressing his ear against the door to catch the tail end of the conversation. Acting rashly could have disastrous consequences for his little brother.  
  
"Besides, Sammy." The demon girl lay on her stomach, alternating her slender legs idly. "You can't fool me. This is the way you like it. The whole world revolving around you. No bossy brother telling you what to do. Maybe you haven't noticed, but you've got your big bro wrapped around your finger."   
  
"That's not the point!" Sam snapped, frustrated. Although... it  _was_  nice having Dean listen to him more. Everything Dean had done the last day had been for Sam. Still... Sam despised how afraid he'd been of Dean just now. His own brother, and he'd barely been able to string together a sentence! Not to mention, as long as he was this size, whether he admitted it or not, Dean was in control. Sam could do nothing to stop his brother, even from something as simple as where they went. Although, after what Sam had just gone through, Dean would probably be willing to do almost anything Sam asked.  
  
He pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He needed to get back to normal. "I can't even get myself out of a sink this size!"  
  
She rolled her eyes at that. "You boys are  _so_  melodramatic." Another flick of her hands, and he was standing next to her, fully clean and dry.  
  
Off balance from the short teleport, Sam almost tumbled to the ground, catching himself at the last second. His shirt and jacket were clean and folded next to her on the ground, leaving him shirtless in the giant bathroom.  
  
She gave him a big, blue-eyed stare, blinking innocently. "See? I'm not  _all_ bad, am I?"  
  
Sam brushed himself off, glancing towards the door. _What's taking you so long, Dean...?_  he thought, worried. Meeting her stare, he said, "jury's still out on that one."  
  
Another flicker had her standing next to him. She brushed a hand up his chest and stroked his anti-possession tattoo. "You hate demons so much..." she said softly, sounding hurt.  
  
Sam blinked in surprise at the emotion in her voice. Demons didn't  _get_  emotional. "What _are_  you?" he asked softly. Maybe she'd let her guard down now... if he was lucky.  
  
Dean had to strain his ear further. The splashing of water against the side of the sink fell still, and their shrunken voice dropped to quiet decibels he couldn't detect. His heart skipped a beat. Had he already waited too long?   
  
He jiggled the doorknob, aghast to find it had been locked from the inside. He pounded on the door, listening for any sign of his brother.   
  
"Sam!" he bellowed. If there was an answer, Dean couldn't hear it.   
  
 _Shit, she's already poofed him off to God only knows where..._  
  
No time to pick the lock. Dean backed up and kicked the knob with force enough to make the wood around it splinter. One more outta do it...  
  
The demon girl pulled away to look at the huge, rattling wall of painted wood. It was like watching a skyscraper wall bend and burst before their eyes.   
  
"I'll have to catch you later, big guy," the girl replied, unconcerned by the violent pounding from their immediate right. "But hey... you know what they say, the show simply must go on."   
  
The tiny demon chuckled, her red-mottled wings flickering behind her in the form of a pleased stretch. Without warning, her skinny arms were around Sam's neck, yanking him down to her level, her lips brushing his ear: "You want my advice? Just roll with it."   
  
With a hot whisper left on his neck, the girl evaporated into thin air- just as the doorknob went flying out of its socket and the Dean angrily shoved the door out of his way.   
  
His broad shoulders slumped in obvious relief that Sam was still there, and not any more shrimpy than he already was. He turned his searching gaze all around the dingy bathroom, as if their miniature perpetrator might have chosen to perch on the shower rail or soap dish. Within a short time, however, it became clear that the girl was gone for the time being.  
  
Dean came over to the sink, scanning Sam up and down with a flick of his eyes. He was fine. "I heard you talking to her." He looked at the still water abandoned in the sink and frowned thoughtfully. "Was she... was she watching you  _bathe?_  "   
  
Sam shook his head in an affirmative. Realizing Dean might not have noticed the slight motion, he glanced up. “Yeah. She seems to like to pop in when we don’t expect it.” He strayed away from the ‘watching him bathe’ topic. "I can't tell if she's taunting me or not."  
  
Picking up his shirt from the countertop, he eased it over his head. His arm was throbbing worse than ever after everything he’d gone through after injuring it originally. It took more effort than he was used to to just get the arm into the sleeve. He slipped his jacket on next, not wanting to leave anything where he might lose it while it was tiny.  
  
Brushing himself off, Sam walked back towards Dean. He forced down the trepidation he felt near his giant brother.  _It’s not his fault any of this happened… it’s all that demon girl’s fault…_  “So, what’s the plan?”  
  
"Well," Dean started out. "It's about time we figure out what kind of demon we're dealing with. I was going to hit the library, but you..." Dean looked down at Sam dubiously, knowing the air was far from cleared between them. He ran his tongue over the side of his teeth and his frown deepened. "We both know you're not feeling up to par. If you need a little 'me time,’ just say the word."  
  
Sam forced a smile at his brother's concern. "No, I need to work. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner I get back to normal." He had a feeling if he stopped to think about everything that happened, he'd be having nightmares for a month. He wouldn't be able to relax at all while he was this size, not knowing he could be zapped away by the little demon girl at any time.  
  
He waved at Dean to put his hand on the counter. After all, despite everything, Dean was the one person who would help him. Who  _could_  help him. And Sam might be nervous about how close he'd been to getting hurt because of a moment's inattention, but he still trusted Dean in his heart.  
  
Dean set his hand down palm-up on the edge of the counter, his fingers becoming a walkway as Sam climbed aboard. Though guilt still hung over him like a heavy cloud, Dean agreed this wasn't likely a problem they could wait out. They had to switch from the defense to the offense; to find out the answers they so desperately needed.    
  
In extreme contrast to the way he had accidentally plucked Sam up at the table, Dean now lifted Sam up cupped between two hands with consideration for speed.   
  
"We need to talk about your hiding spot,” he said, walking into the bedroom. "I can't keep carrying a tiny car around with me. She's a sweet ride, I can't blame people for staring..." Dean added with a pleased smile. "But sooner or later someone's gonna see the fun-sized driver that comes with her."   
  
Dean curled a single finger inward, gently messing up Sam's damp hair.   
  
Sam batted Dean’s finger away as best he could, annoyed he couldn't do anything to retaliate. He sent up a glare while he mulled over Dean's suggestion.  
  
It was true, people didn't normally carry around model cars, and he was surprised Dean hadn't got more questions when walking around that morning. But... that meant he'd be out in the open. Defenseless. He'd be completely reliant on Dean. Sam hated that feeling of neediness and vulnerability.  
  
He sighed, knowing there was no avoiding it. "Yeah, you're right,” he said, speaking loudly so Dean could hear him from down on his hand. "Where did you plan on putting me? Your pocket?" His eyes fell on the pocket, still high over his head from where he was standing. It was so tall he wouldn't be able to see out at all. Trapped.  
  
Dean glanced down at himself briefly before giving Sam a lopsided smile that spoke volumes of apologies. "You got any better ideas?" he challenged, arching an eyebrow to distract from the faint blush on his cheeks. When Sam looked away, not answering, Dean tilted his head at him sympathetically.  
  
"Hey man, I don't like this anymore than you do. It sucks ass, no way around it." Dean gently curled a finger inward, giving his brother a supportive little rub that made Sam dig his feet in so as to not be pushed forward by the slight force.   
  
"So... you wanna give this a try?" He waited for Sam's half-hearted shrug before moving his hand up to the lip of the pocket. He held it open with his other hand, glancing inside. At Sam's current size, even the drop to the bottom would be jarring.   
  
"Uh... you might wanna take a deep breath," Dean advised.   
  
Soon after Sam understood what he meant, as the huge hand he was seat on started to tilt, the thick fingers curling inward to wrap him up in a gentle fist. Dean's stomach twisted when he realized Sam's  _entire friggin' body_  easily disappeared within his grasp. The power he had over Sam like that hurt to behold. It didn't last long, thankfully, as he pushed his fist as deep into the breast pocket as it could fit before uncurling his fingers to let Sam slide out at the bottom.   
  
Dean pulled his hand back out and peered inside, trying to see inside without completely blocking the light. He glimpsed his little brother halfway between standing and sitting, looking quite honestly adorable there at the bottom of his pocket.   
  
"Comfy?" Dean asked.   
  
Sam caught himself once Dean's fist opened, grabbing the thick threads of the jacket so he didn't fall over. The light from above faded and he glanced up, catching Dean's question at the last second. From where he was he could see one of Dean's eyes blinking sympathetically at him, and a bit of his cheek.   
  
He took a quick glance around the pocket. Tall fabric walks stretched up, almost twice as tall as he was. The side leaning against Dean's chest was warm and he could hear the constant thudding of Dean's heart from where he was. Despite everything else, all the crazy he had to deal with, it provided a comfort.   
  
"I'm good!" he called up as loud as he could. He decided to ignore the way Dean was still staring down at him from so high above. He'd probably be curious if he had someone in his pocket, too. Sam turned his attention to trying to walk in the pocket, stumbling when he found it closer to walking on a swinging hammock than the floor.  
  
Dean's duffle bag was sitting in the other side, forgotten in the excitement from earlier. Sam smiled.  _He must have grabbed it before running to the park._  Anything could come in useful this point, so Sam made sure to gather up all the loose items. He tucked them safely away before sliding down in the corner. Hopefully the ride wouldn't be too bumpy for him there.  
  
Dean regarded him for another few moments, unable to tear his eyes off the disconcerting sight. He needed a lot more beer to be anywhere near the realm of coping with this magnitude of strange.   
  
"I'll give you a signal when the coast is clear. You know how much I love hitting the books," Dean told him.   
  
He released the little pocket flap, smoothing it down halfway and securing Sam inside. He took a single step forward and once again marveled at how Sam weighed him down no more than a big grape in his pocket. Dean made sure his knife and gun were within reach in their respective hiding spots in his jacket before heading out of the motel room.


	10. Chapter 10

The library was hosting some sort of old people's book club in the lobby. The local library was actually impressive for such a little town, much bigger on the inside than it appeared. The circle of little old ladies all turned around when Dean pushed through the revolving doors, making no effort to conceal their nosiness. Even without their scrutiny, Dean stood out like a sore thumb as a first-timer to the joint. He caught their whispers and gave them a little nod before marching up to the reception desk, away from their lingering eyes.   
  
"Excuse me."   
  
The pale intern looked up from haggling with the fax machine to see a tall, rugged man leaning forward against the front desk. She just about had to pick her jaw up off the floor. They  _never_  got guys like this in the library. Especially not  _alone_.  
  
"Hi. How can I help you?" She tucked her shoulder length black hair behind her ears and stepped up, more eager than usual.   
  
"I'm doing some research on a particular topic, and I was hoping you could point me in the right direction," he replied.   
  
"O-oh. Yeah, we have lots of... material,” she stumbled over her words at the tail end. Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly- all she needed was to be urged into logging into the network. "Every library is a different maze, right? What topic is your research about?"  
  
"Demons," Dean replied bluntly.  
  
She gave a small start, looking warily over the monitor at him. He flashed her a smile to counteract the bluntness. "Doing a comparative religions project at the community college. Need a little extra punch to my paper."   
  
"Oh, I see." She smiled nervously, clicking away on the computer. "For a second I thought you were one of those creepy satanist people."  
  
She giggled, but trailed off when Dean only gave her a tense half-smile, not having the patience for such a joke. Clearing her throat, she walked around the desk and waved him to follow. "This way."  
  
Sam watched the top of the pocket get pushed shut from the outside. He shivered slightly at the scale of the action, once again reminded of his insignificance. He was sitting in a  _pocket_  that was so tall he wouldn’t be able to get out without climbing. He threaded his fingers through the coarse fabric. At least he’d have plenty of fingerholds at this size. The clothes he and Dean wore turned into a mass of organized threads like this.  
  
His entire world suddenly shook, making the pocket swing slightly through the air. Recognizing the cadence of Dean’s footsteps, Sam realized it was just Dean  _walking_. Sam tried to push himself further into the corner of the pocket, seeking stability and safety in the lint-covered bottom of his brother’s pocket.  
  
Sam found the steady beat of Dean’s heart behind him a comfort, reminding him that no matter how alone he felt right now while he was stuck in a pocket, his brother was there for him. Barely a handsbreath away.   
  
The steady rocking of Dean’s footsteps went on for at least ten minutes before Sam heard the sound of a massive door being pushed open. He pulled the duffel bag closer to him when he recognized the sound of other voices in the background. He had no desire for any other giants to see him like this, completely defenseless.  
  
Dean’s huge voice rumbled behind him, making Sam clap his hands over his ears from the volume. He’d forgotten Dean hadn’t been talking in his normal voice almost the entire time Sam had been shrunk. A girl's voice answered Dean, giving Sam a short respite from his brother. The exchange went on for a minute before Dean’s swaying stride started up again, Sam slumping back thankfully. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, but that didn’t change how it hurt Sam’s ears. Sam huffed at his own vulnerability.  
  
Sam relaxed slightly when he heard footsteps heading away from Dean. He hoped that Dean was finally alone. Being stuck in here with no idea what was going on outside sucked.  
  
When the intern had return downstairs, Dean waited a few minutes to be certain the silence up here was absolute. He glanced around and lifted the flap of his pocket.   
  
"We're clear up here," he whispered, certain that Sam would understand what to do with the hand he pushed inside. Sure enough, once he held still, he felt Sam wriggle into a more secure position, winding his arms around a finger as a safety measure, the tiny boots scuffing on Dean's fingertips.   
  
Dean drew him out into the light and set him down gently onto the table top. Direct physical contact between them had been few and far between, and Dean preferred to keep it that way. Feeling Sam's fragile ribs between his finger and thumb made him want to squirm to no end.   
  
"Alright, we got demon lore here, A-Z. Most of this is gonna be a rehash, but you know the drill. Keep looking between the lines." Dean pulled over a few imported volumes on multi-cultural demons and laid them out in a semi-circle.   
  
Sam's shrunken stature was emphasized by the presentation of ordinary objects. Smaller than a book... hell, he was only as long as a short sentence. A  _very_  short sentence. It was obvious that research was going to be more strenuous than flipping pages for his little brother, but Dean wasn't about to have him sit this out in his pocket while he did all the work. Sam would hate that. Besides... It made him feel better to keep Sam where he could see him.   
  
"Hey," he raised an eyebrow at Sam, giving him a little nudge towards a book. "Don't think you can slack off just ‘cause you lost a couple inches,” he warned, trying to hide the small smirk on his face by burying it into a book himself.   
  
Sam buried his face against the finger, nauseous the second he caught a glimpse of how high up he was. His fingers tightened minutely on the grooves in Dean's skin. Normally he was good with heights, but this was ridiculous! And that was just from the pocket to the table, never mind how high up he was with Dean standing at his full height. He could feel the hand move through the air, gently lowering him to the table.   
  
He definitely preferred standing on the immense palm over this. Feeling Dean's huge fingers pinched around him right now, knowing how easy it would be for Dean to end him, even by accident... hell, the fingers  _alone_  were almost as thick as Sam's entire body right now. And being held captive in his brother's fist, even just for the few seconds it had taken for him to be put in the pocket earlier had been just as bad. His instincts were going haywire like this. He couldn't do anything to help himself, even against Dean. It felt wrong on so many levels to include his brother as a threat but after what he'd been through earlier, he had no choice.  
  
He opened his eyes when the huge finger and thumb he was pinched between opened, his boots landing safely on the table with a small thunk.  
  
Sam glanced around at his surroundings as his brother talked, taking in the immensity of the table covered in books. They formed an all encompassing landscape, with cliff-like shelves in the distance and simple items like the books around him turned into massive boulders. Hanging lights above completed the illusion, substituting the sun and moon. He couldn't even make out the ceiling, as distant as it was.  
  
Sam almost tripped over his own feet when Dean's huge knuckle nudged him out of nowhere towards one of the books. Gentle for Dean wasn't quite the same as it was for Sam anymore. Stumbling to catch his balance, he shot a glare up at his brother, briefly dismayed by the sheer difference in scale between them.   
  
"Ha ha, very funny," he grumbled up at Dean, secretly glad he was back to keeping his voice down. 'Course, that could just be because they were in a library. "Don't tell me you're  _still_  trying to get out of research."  
  
Seeing Dean was already buried in a book, he walked over to the closest one. The book itself was knee high, giving off the comforting smell of musty paper. Sam grabbed onto the cover, trying to shove it open so he could read. Nothing.  
  
_This is a problem,_  he thought to himself.  
  
"Uh, Dean..." Sam called up, trailing off. His face warmed with the realization that he needed his brother's help with something so _simple._  
  
Dean didn't answer, still intently poring over the book in front of him.  
  
"Dean!" Sam shouted, aggravated. Once the huge greens locked on his tiny form, Sam felt himself stiffen again. He still wasn't used to being stared down at from something so massive.  _Not someTHING... it's just DEAN..._  
  
"I... uh..." He gestured at the book, embarrassed he needed help with something so simple.  
  
Dean's eyes skated from Sam's sheepish posture to the comparatively huge book waiting next to him.   
  
"Gotcha covered," he said back in a deep, hushed tone.   
  
A quick smile of understanding perked up the corners of Dean's lips as he reached forward and opened the book up, flipping forward to a page about legends of demons in ancient Chinese culture. It wasn't like he was trying to show off, but all it took was a couple curled fingertips under the lip of the cover to effortlessly open it wide.  
  
"You need help turning the pages?" Dean offered, hand hovering close. Under other circumstances, it would have been snide humor, but right now he was completely serious. Sam shot him a defensive look and Dean held his hands up in mock innocence. "Hey, man. Just checkin.’ "   
  
He went back to his own book, pretending to immerse himself in reading. In reality, he was just waiting for Sam to become too involved in his own reading process. Dean smirked wickedly as he slunk his cellphone out of his pants pocket and held it up over the edge of the table, framing his shrunken brother in its viewport. He snapped seven or eight shots, zooming out a bit to get the real scale of the books compared to Sam.   
  
After climbing into the massive book, Sam surveyed the information stretching out under his boots. In order to be able to read he had to walk along the columns of text. His vantage was too low for anything else to work.  
  
Realizing he could hear Dean shifting around behind him, Sam twisted in place. His suspicion grew when all he saw was Dean sitting innocently with a book. He gave his brother a probing stare. When Dean noticed all Sam got in return was an innocent 'what?' look.  
  
With a sigh Sam went back to his reading. Dean was definitely up to something, but at this size there was nothing Sam could do to drag it out of him. Or get him back.   
  
He tried to concentrate on the images below his feet, reading about the Yaoguai the book started with. They didn't sound like the little demon girl at all... The Yaoguai were described as going after holy men. She'd done nothing of the sort.   
  
He stalked through the book, dismayed by how long it took to read just a page like this. It was going to take him  _forever_  to get through the reading. Even the sound of Dean innocently flipping pages behind him was pissing him off to no end. Why'd he have to get shrunk? Everything was so easy for Dean... Determined, he grabbed the edge of the page, hauling it over his head to turn it.   
  
It finally gave way, shifting to the second page of the text. But right before he could push the page all the way over and seal his victory, it shifted again with a rustle, covering him up in the book.  
  
Shoving his cellphone back into his pocket at random, Dean watched the thin paper waft down right on top of Sam. The paper pushed up in the form of tiny punches and protests from underneath, but it was like a baby trying to find its way out of a king sized bed sheet.   
  
"Good reads, huh?" Dean smirked softly, just barely keeping his chuckle at bay. He reached over between the pages to pluck Sam up and out.   
  
The amount of squirming he received was downright startling. "Whoa, hey--" Dean's smile dropped as he shot out a second hand under the first, a safety net under his brother who was wriggling between the two fingers and thumb like a rabid snake. Quick as he could, Dean set him down on the next page, free of his grasp. The protesting stopped short. Dean raised an eyebrow, giving Sam a familiar  _what the hell?_  look.   
  
"S-sorry," Sam managed once he was standing on his own again. Being picked up so fast reminded him how easily he'd almost died not long ago. "Just.... give me a little warning next time, ok?" He shook himself off, regaining his equilibrium.  
  
Something in Dean's eyes shifted. Not quite pity... but a version of reverence perhaps. The decrease in the number of bitchfits Sam was throwing was actually bumming Dean out. It was disturbing to have Sam so thoroughly intimidated of him in such a short time.   
  
_Well you did almost eat him,_  a voice in the back of his head sneered.  _Not to mention almost pancaking him inside Baby last night._    
  
Blushing faintly at his own destructiveness, Dean mumbled a quick apology and buried his nose in his book. They had to find a way to make this right. He was not spending the rest of his life with his brother reduced to a pocket pet. Even as he so diligently pored over the suggested hierarchy of demons in the dry thesis, Dean kept glancing up at his little brother. He wondered if, even after Sam was restored to his proper size, if that would really fix things between them. Even for them, this was a lot of family trauma to squeeze into such a short timeframe.   
  
After about an hour, the intern came back up to check on Dean. Sam was easily hid under the pages once again until she left them alone again. The distant murmur of the book club on the first floor became more apparent in the silence of determined reading.   
  
"Hey," Dean said, finally picking up on something unique. He pushed his current book around to face Sam and tapped a picture of a woodcut illustration of a man with black bat wings, under the bold heading  **IMP**.   
  
"Says these things get their kicks by annoying people into submission. Apparently, that's all that friendship is down in the lower ranks of demons these days."  
  
Sam cocked his head at the picture. It was definitely reminiscent of the girl… the only difference was her wings were red. “Makes sense…” he said. He tried to recall what he could of imps. Nothing rose to mind. They’d never even encountered other demons that mentioned imps…  _maybe the imps annoyed all the other demons so much no one wants to admit they exist,_ he mused to himself. Could be why she was seeking out humans...  
  
Brashly, he climbed up on the book Dean was reading from, stalking over the passages about imps. He ignored the way Dean was leaning over the entire landscape of the pages, confident in his safety near his giant brother right now.  
  
One phrase caught his eye while he was reading. “They were known as lonely little creatures, always in search of human attention,” he read out loud from the words under his boots. “That definitely fits. She seems to  _want_  us to like her… she seemed to get upset when I was mad at her earlier.”  
  
Dean's expression flattened, irritated at the mere gall of this imp to be upset with  _them_  after the hellish 24 hours she had imposed on them.    
  
"Hell of a way to make friends,” he muttered unhappily. "Skip to the part about how we can ice these tiny bitches."   
  
They returned to skimming the text, expertly picking out relevant information based on keywords. Dean loathed the dry task, but he was good at it when he set his mind to it.   
  
"Found it." He tapped the paragraph at the bottom of the page. He moved his hand away to make room as Sam ambled deeper in Dean's shadow upon the page. "Though mostly thought to be immortal, Blah, blah, blah... Legend has it they can be bound to an object, such as a sword or crystal ball," Dean announced triumphantly. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully at their options, though it wasn't really a contest in his opinion. "Well. Sword's got my vote."  
  
Sam couldn't stop a smirk at that, relaxing in the familiar banter. It gave him a sense of normalcy, even as he read from letters the size of his boots. "You would."  
  
Crossing his arms, he frowned to himself. "You have any plans on where to get a sword from?" he called up to Dean.  
  
Dean shrugged, his confidence already returning with determination. They had a way to fight this thing now; no longer would they be helpless at the whims of an imp. Now, they could do what they did best.  
  
"Dunno. Maybe one of those old hags downstairs knows that ancient Holy Grail knight from  _The Last Crusade_." He waggled his eyebrows at his own joke, egged on when Sam merely rolled his eyes. It was strangely reassuring that Sam wasn't so scared of him that he'd pretend to laugh at his bad jokes.   
  
He laid a hand flat on the table, curling the index finger inward in an invitation. "Gotta be a museum or psychic somewhere in this town..."  
  
“I think our best bet would be a museum first. So many psychic’s use fake crystal balls, there’s no telling if we’re gonna get the real thing or not,” Sam called up to his brother as he clambered up onto the offered palm without hesitation. With a way to trap her, he might be able to finally get back to size. End this nightmare. Dean’s fingers curled around him protectively once he was standing in the center of the hand, dwarfing him on all sides.   
  
Dean nodded, willing himself not to be distracted by the fact that Sam's foot was nearly all but disappeared into the crease of his love line.   
  
"Good call. See you soon, short-stop." Pinching Sam delicately by the collar of his jacket, Dean lowered him into his breast pocket until he felt the tiny knees buckle and hit the bottom. He figured it was better than half-smothering him in his fist again. After standing up and stacking the demon books, Dean started for the stairs. He gave the occupied pocket a light pat as if saying his little brother wasn't far from mind.  
  
“Yeah, sounds- yah!” Sam gave a yelp of surprise when his jacket was pinched between massive fingers. He froze in place when Dean lifted him up, not wanting to accidentally squirm out of his brother’s grasp so high above the ground. This time, he was thankful to feel the bottom of the pocket under his boots. Once he was settled, the huge hand rose up out of the pocket, leaving him alone in the dark.  
  
It wasn’t for long. The moment Sam felt the huge, thudding footsteps start up a massive weight pushed against the pocket. It was light enough he wasn’t smooshed, but still completely overpowering. He flailed for a few seconds in shock before it fell away.  
  
Sam sent a glare up at the top of the pocket, recognizing Dean’s hand as the source. With every bit of effort he could manage, he threw a punch into the solid wall behind him. With any luck, Dean could still feel  _that._  
  
Dean faltered momentarily in his stride. Once he pieced together that the tiny poke had been Sam's fist, he smirked shamelessly.  
  
"Nice arm, Thumbelina," Dean said, just loud enough for Sam to hear. He gave the flap of the pocket a tug, jostling the pocket just enough to send Sam straight onto his ass.   
  
The back and forth petered out after they left the library. Much to Dean's dismay, there were zero swords in the local museum. Not even a dagger. Most of it was native american artifacts from the early settlers and a bunch of useless art. Fortunately, the pawn shop had different results.  
  
"How much?" Dean jerked his thumb at the medieval sword hanging on the wall over the register.  
  
The bearded, weathered owner gave it long look. "One-twenty-five."  
  
"You guys take credit cards?" he asked hopefully. The owner gave him a flat look, slapping the sign taped to the cash register that read:  **CASH ONLY**.  
  
Dean pulled out his wallet and flipped through the remainder of his petty cash. "I've got... Ninety seven. And I'll throw in the watch."   
  
"And i'll throw you outta here. No deal, son."  
  
Dean looked down at himself, desperately inventory his belongings for anything he could part with. Before he could come to terms with anything, the owner clicked his tongue and spoke again.  
  
"On second thought, lemme take a look at that little doo-dad you got 'round your neck there."   
  
Chin to his chest, Dean saw the man was motioning at the amulet strung around his neck.   
  
"It's not for sale,” he stated firmly, eyes fierce despite himself.  
  
Sam mumbled curses at his brother after the mini earthquake died down. It was infuriating how little he could do like this. He stumbled over to the duffel bag, shoving it into a corner for support against the swaying environment.  
  
He sat like that for an endless amount of time, listening to the world outside. He still couldn't stop from flinching whenever he heard other humans around. It would be easy for him to be crushed if anyone else bumped into his brother. Not for the first time, Sam found himself thankful Dean hated having anyone in his ‘personal space.’  
  
He gave a slight jolt when Dean’s voice rang overhead. Sam opened eyes he didn’t remember closing, pulling himself out of a slight sleep. Sam realized Dean was trying to barter for a sword at last… with any luck they could get out of this with a sword and get that damn imp…  
  
_“Did someone call my name?”_ came a familiar voice, far to close for comfort.  
  
Sam twitched away in surprise, crashing to the bottom of the pocket.  
  
Dean stepped outside, the bells of the pawn shop door bidding him a cheerful farewell. He leaned against the brick wall out of the owner's sightline and took the amulet between his fingers. He didn't have a lot of family mementos. A few childhood photos of him and his parents, his dad's old leather jacket, his mom's ring... And this amulet. He took it off and turned it over a few more times in his hands. Clinging to childhood memories wasn't worth condemning Sam to a tortured life at the whims of a demon. With a heavy heart, Dean made his decision. He'd have to turn it over to get the sword.   
  
Entangled beside Sam at the bottom of Dean's rocking pocket was the imp, her black eyes gleaming with a wicked mischief. "You're gonna let your big brother spoil what we've got going here? We were just starting to get so close..." With superhuman strength, she clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out to Dean as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear: " _I'm ready to play again._ "  
  
She snapped her fingers, and then the world went black.   


* * *

  
Sam groaned, picking himself up off the ground. Blood trickled out of his nose from the rough ride he’d been through.  
  
He rubbed at the bloody nose distractedly, trying to scour the blood off. The ride got worse every time he teleported. A throbbing headache offset the bloody nose, pounding in time with faint music he could hear playing in the background.   
  
Sam stiffened when he took in his surroundings.  _Where the hell am I…?_  he thought to himself, trying to force his mind to focus. It was like trying to push off the worst hangover after an entire night of partying.  
  
He was standing out in the open, the world still towering around him. So the imp was still up to the same tricks. He rubbed his head, groaning slightly at the thought. So far every time he'd been separated from Dean he'd almost gotten himself killed. Why should he think this time would be any different?  
  
A massive couch sat in the distance, leading to Sam glancing over his shoulder. Yep, there was a massive TV behind him. So he was standing on a coffee table, not too far from the edge. A few magazines were scattered on the edge away from him and a giant coffee mug was only a few inches away. It was so hot he could feel the heat rising from it.  
  
_Whoever's drinking this must not be far away..._  Sam thought worriedly.   
  
The rest of the area he was in was too distant got him to completely make out. It _looked_  like there was sunlight streaming in through a window, but he just couldn't be sure from the angle he was standing at.  
  
With an unhappy groan, Sam set out to the edge of the table.  _Gotta find where I am, gotta find Dean and then trap that imp. Get everything back to normal at last,_  he thought to himself resolutely.   
  
This resolve lasted until he heard the immense, worrying sound of a door opening in the distance. Heart in his throat, Sam dove for the only cover anywhere close.   
  
The coffee mug.  
  
Whoever it was came alone. Quick, casual footsteps vibrated everything on the table as a pair of denim-clad legs came into view. There was a slight  _ooomph_  of air leaving the cushions as the person took a seat on the couch.  
  
"Ah,  _thank you_ , Jaime," a deep voice murmured happily, thanking the intern who had brought in the coffee just minutes beforehand.   
  
The shadows shifted on the table- the only warning Sam got before a massive hand slid through the handle. Fingers longer than his body curled around the back of the mug, only a hair's breadth away from pressing into Sam's tiny body.   
  
The typical Twitter alert dinged out from the couch. The fingers paused at the last second, barely brushing Sam's sleeve as they withdrew. It was so slight, the owner didn't take a lick of notice of the brief texture. A phone out of Sam's sight clicked dully as it was unlocked. A pause, and then a very slow, deliberate answer typed back in reply. Another pause, as the person apparently reconsidered what they wrote before pressing  **SEND**. The phone clicked off, and fabric rustled.   
  
This time, there was no time for Sam to react as the giant hand eagerly scooped up the coffee mug, taking Sam along with it.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean went back inside the pawn shop, his heart heavy but his mind made up. The seedy owner grinned a mouthful of pearly whites and fool's gold as Dean handed over his beloved amulet and the last ninety-seven dollars to his name.   
  
"Pleasure doing business with you, boy."   
  
Dean shot him a rather withering glance after the sword was in his possession. It looked like it was fairly old, judging by the aging on the helm and blade. A little polish and it would shine like new. Even better, it would trap that wretched imp and restore Sam to his proper size.  
  
 _Hope you're ready to tear this bitch a new one, Sammy._  
  
"AAANNND CUT!"    
  
Dean flinched and spun on his heel to face the foreign voice. His eyes bugged out: half of the pawn shop had been cut away, and replaced by what appeared to be the behind-the-scenes side of a TV or movie set. A line of producers, boom mike operators, technician speaking into headsets.... he whirled back around to see the pawn shop owner drinking a Dasani and chatting up one of the younger ladies wearing an ID badge, a pair of fake teeth in hand.   
  
 _This... it's a set? It can't be! I was just in here, and I sure as hell would've noticed a freaking microphone hanging over my head!_  
  
Somehow, his gut already knew exactly which black-eyed, size-obsessed demon was to blame.   
  
The next thing he knew, a shorter man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard was suddenly slapping him on the back, giving him a friendly squeeze.   
  
"Great job, Jensen. I can always count on you to go the extra mile."  
  
Dean squirmed, shooting him a look that made him rethink his invasion of personal space. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at him, glancing around him for the man he was talking to.   
  
"Me?"  
  
The director gave him a strange look. "You see anybody else named Jensen here?"  
  
Dean looked left and right, actively searching the set as if a man wearing a name tag that read ‘Jensen’ might appear out of thin air. Mildly concerned, the director took his hand off Dean's shoulders and backed away a bit.   
  
"Remind me not to be rhetorical on Fridays,” the graying man muttered. "Take five. We need to reset before the next shot."   
  
The apparent director went back into the crowd, replaying the footage with a set of headphones on. Feeling lost and confused, Dean didn't know where to turn. Where the hell was he? And sure enough, these people couldn't leave him alone. A spindly man wearing all black tried to pry the sword right out of his hand. Dean yanked it back out of his hands, shooting him a death glare.  
  
"Mister Ackles, it's... it's a prop. I can't let you take that..."  
  
"The hell I can't." Dean twirled it in his hand. The blade  _wobbled_. Frowning incredulously, Dean shook it again. The whole thing wobbled vigorously, just like...   
  
"Rubber," he muttered. "Fucking useless." He shoved it into the prop man's hands, striding off angrily in a different direction.   
  
It was around that time that he noticed the distinct lack of a tiny body thudding against his chest. Though his gut already told him what he would find, dread crippled him anyway. Dean yanked open his breast pocket and peered inside. Empty. The imp had separated them again... Who knew where Sam was now?   
  
Dean suddenly looked around at all the busy people like they were death machines. Had Sam already been crushed? Was he running for his life in a sea of hapless giants? The thoughts only increased in severity, rooting him to his spot as he tried not to panic. The imp had completely turned the tables on them.   
  
 _Again_.   
  
Two personal assistants with the name tags ‘Val’ and ‘Rodney’ hanging out nearby spied his distress. Normally, they were kept to just snacks and menial tasks, but given his distress, they approached tentatively.   
  
"Can I... get you anything, Mister Ackles?" Val asked hesitantly.   
  
Recognizing the name the prop guy had called him, Dean looked up. "Yeah, let me know if you see any little people wandering around," Dean huffed before storming off, choosing a direction at random.   
  
Bewildered, the two PAs stared holes into his back until he was out of sight.   
  
"Isn't the proper term 'midgets?' " Rodney asked.   
  
"No, no. He's right, it's 'little people.' "  
  
Rodney shook his head. "Man, that guy is  _weird_."   
  


* * *

  
Sam let out a yelp of surprise as the fingers pressed him into the side of the mug, taking away his breath. The pressure was almost enough to crack his ribs, and he could feel the heat of the cup through his clothing. Thankfully his bare skin wasn't shoved against it. He struggled fruitlessly as the ground fell away from his feet, leaving him suspended in midair at the unknown person's mercy. Even if he got out now, it would mean a drop to his death.  
  
Sam froze.  
  
There was a long pause where it seemed the room itself stood still, holding its breath. Then the mug turned around, slowly bringing Sam into view.  
  
Vivid green eyes went about as wide as they could go as they discovered the tiny thing attached to the coffee mug. Words wouldn't form, only incoherent thoughts flashing through his mind's eye as he raced to process what he was seeing. It looked like a doll... a familiar face-- oh  _FUCK_  it was alive!  
  
The man gasped and dropped the mug in shock. A deep curse rang out as the broiling hot coffee spilled all over his pants. The coffee mug fell with a dull clunk to the floor, while Sam landed on the edge of his lap and slipped onto the sofa.    
  
All in all, it wasn't the worst way to cope with the discovery of tiny people.  
  
Stunned into speechless silence, the man leaned down over the tiny person, watching as he picked himself up in a dizzy manner. His riveted frown deepened, lips parting in awe as the tiny man- no more than three inches tall, he'd wager- got to his feet. The slight burns on his coffee-dampened thighs couldn't be further from his mind. There was something so disturbingly familiar about his face...  
  
Sam shoved himself up with a groan after the fall, barely able to believe he'd survived. First tumbling what must have been twenty feet after almost being scalded by a hot cup, landing on a giant leg, falling off of  _that_... Somehow he was still in one piece. Still alive.  
  
He stumbled on the plushy surface of the couch, catching his balance. If it wasn't for that damn imp, he'd start to think that damn rabbit's foot curse was affecting him again. This was a shitload of bad luck to shove into such a small amount of time.  
  
The silence drilled into the back of his head. He'd only caught a brief glimpse of the person who'd picked him up by accident, but Sam knew he was still there. Still watching Sam. A chill went up Sam's back at his helplessness.  
  
Since he didn't have anywhere else to run, Sam turned himself around with an unhappy sigh. And blinked in surprise. "Dean! Dude, what the hell's up with dropping me like that?"  
  
The man's light eyebrows shot up in surprise. He blinked, and cocked his head to the side as if making sure the little guy wasn't going to follow up on that.   
  
"Jared?" he asked softly. The tiny doppelganger frowned, so he changed his answer. "Sam," he tried. God it was hard to get a read on such a tiny face! "You... you think you're Sam. Sam Winchester?"  
  
The man covered his mouth with his hand, still awestruck. Finally, he eased up a bit, making note of the stains on his costume pieces. "I've either had too much coffee or not nearly enough..." he chuckled weakly, the intrigue and astonishment still visible in his every move. Gingerly, he prodded a finger into the tiny Sam's side. Real as ever. "Who put you up to this, Bob Singer? One of Misha's Russian comrades?" the man went on, scanning him up and down for any sort of wiring or flicker.   
  
Sam tried to bat the huge finger away. At least Dean hadn't poked his bad arm. "What the hell are you talking about, Dean?" He scowled up at the giant. "Bob?  _Misha?_  Did you hit your head or something? I don't _think_  I'm Sam Winchester... I  _am_  Sam Winchester." Sam threw up his arms in annoyance, continuing his aggravated, 'I'm done with it' tirade that had been building up inside ever since shrinking in the first place. "You remember the imp, don't you? We still have to find a way to stop  _her_  or at least get me back to normal. I'm getting sick of this whole two-inches-tall business."  
  
"Yeah I bet," the larger man said under his breath, sizing Sam up with his eyes for the twentieth time. Being that small couldn't have been a picnic.   
  
Sam put a little distance between himself and his giant brother, staring at his surroundings. He tried to focus on their predicament and pushed away his aggravation. "Where do you think she teleported us too, and where'd you get the coffee from?" ... _man I could use some coffee myself after everything I've gone through... and Dean just wasted an entire cup..._  
  
When Sam had his back turned, the man turned around again, searching for hidden cameras that would indicate this was some sort of prank. But by every possible observation, he was completely alone. Just him and the incredibly shrunken Sam.   
  
"A uh.. a P.A. brought it in," he said, glancing down distractedly at the lopsided coffee mug. He shook his head, now looking down at Sam with a healthy wariness. "You know what, just... Sit tight for a sec."   
  
He slowly rose to his feet, glancing up at Sam frequently as he dialed a number and brought the cell up to his ear.   
  
"Bob Singer." The man on the other line sounded besieged.   
  
"Bob, hey. You uh... this is gonna sound a little far-fetched, but you didn't happen to send over a souvenir from this episode?" he asked, his eyes locked on Sam.   
  
"We're not even finished shooting it! Must've been some of the crew," Bob answered, sounding like he was trying to do ten things at once. "Or maybe escaped fan mail. I don't know."   
  
"Shit. I mean, yeah of course. Thanks," he said hurriedly, hanging up the phone. So that left him with the unthinkable options.   
  
"So,  _Sam,_ , you uh... you're a little off the reservation, huh?" He stood by the couch, still waiting for the surprise to wear off.  
  
Sam stared at Dean as his brother was on the phone, eyebrows slowly scrunching together in confusion. He backed away from the edge of the couch, uncomfortable with the way Dean standing over him and moving so fast. Here he thought he'd finally started to get used to this size.  
  
Sam's confusion increased while Dean was on the phone, talking to someone he seemed to have invented on the spot. The familiar cold ball of dread coalesced in Sam's stomach.  
  
"Yeah.... Dean, this is no time for games. Or pranks. Seriously. Did you get the sword, at least?"  
  
The larger man shook his head, holding up a hand to stop Sam from spewing any more stories. "You gotta stop calling me that. I'm not your brother."   
  
He crouched down, putting his face more level to the little man on his couch. "I-- I do know Dean... very well. But I'm not him. My name is Jensen. I'm an actor. I play Dean Winchester on a TV show," he said, very clearly so there was no mistake. He chuckled weakly and shook his head. "And I'm talking to you like you actually exist.."  
  
Sam resembled a fish, standing there on the couch with his mouth open. He closed it, opened it. Thought about what he was going to say, closed it again. Stared at his surroundings, the giant in front of him... who was wearing Dean's shirt. Dean's jeans... his  _amulet_  for godsakes!  
  
"Not Dean. Not my brother..." Sam backed away from the edge, trying to put distance between them. The danger he was in was only just starting to sink in.   
  
He eyed up the giant in front of him, trying to figure out what was going on. "Exist? Of course I exist..." he said, more to himself than anything. Then again, he had a hard time admitting the person in front of him wasn't Dean. Same green eyes, same clothes, same annoying smirk!  
  
"Alright  _Jensen,_ " Sam said, determined. "If you're not my brother, where is he?" Sam tried to push down any fear, standing confidently on the couch.  
  
Jensen pinched his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine. This is like some Supernatural-themed acid trip." He frowned, eyes shifting a little as he mulled this over seriously.   
  
"Alright, let's say I believe you. You're from some... alternate world where these characters... where Sam and Dean are real." Jensen conjectured. His frown deepened, green eyes locking back onto the impossibly tiny demon-hunter standing on his couch. "Hey, you ended up here with me, right? Maybe Dean ended up in Jared's trailer, swapping counterparts or something. Worth a shot."  
  
Still staring at Sam, Jensen cocked his head to the side, another startling thought occurring to him.  
  
"Hang on. Dean... is he bite-sized too?" Jensen held up a hand, measuring out Sam's approximate height with a finger and thumb.  
  
"No..." Sam said slowly, glad the Dean doppelganger hadn't made any threatening moves. He shuddered when Jensen called him bite-sized, an icy chill hitting at the memory of being trapped in a mouth.  _That_  hit too close to home for comfort. "He was normal last I saw. I'm the lucky one."  
  
He hesitated for a long moment, mulling over what he was about to say. On the one hand, he wanted nothing to do with any regular sized humans while he was so vulnerable. On the other hand, Jensen hadn't done anything to Sam and aside from thinking he was losing his mind (and Sam  _still_  had trouble believing he'd been shrunk, honestly, do out was no surprise if anyone else had trouble believing it) he'd treated Sam like a regular person.  
  
"Do... do you think you could help me find my brother?" Sam asked hopefully, staring up at the new giant. He was useless stranded on the couch like this, with no way to even get down on his own. If he wanted any hope of finding his brother, he'd need help.  
  
Jensen's eyebrows went up, his face unintentionally mirroring Dean's look of surprise whenever he was faced with an unusual request. Even if this was all some insane dream (he was running out of actual scenarios that could explain this insanity)... The poor little guy was lost and confused and only three inches tall. There really was only one way to be decent about this.   
  
"Y-yeah. Jared's trailer is just around the corner." He reached out, on instinct to pick Sam up. The hand slowed when it was right next to the shrunken man, the stark comparison reminding him how nerve-wracking it must be on the other end.  
  
"Sorry, bud," Jensen apologized. "But...this is how it's gotta go down. Hang in there." He scooped Sam up into his hand, locking him up in a loose fist, with plenty of light coming in between the fingers. Once standing again, he uncurled his hand a bit to look in at him.   
  
"You say somethin?’ "   
  
Sam couldn’t help jumping back at the hand coming right at him. It was made worse knowing it wasn’t actually Dean grabbing at him but someone who had his face. He was easily scooped up, the vertigo hitting his stomach at Jensen’s fast movements. His yelp of surprise was muffled by the loose fist he was trapped in.  
  
The movement slowed and the world opened up around him as Jensen opened his fist.  
  
“N-no. Just… can you move a little… slower? And… thanks. For helping.” He stared up at the giant, giving him his best puppy eyes. It might not be Dean he was with, but Jensen so far wasn’t such a bad guy.  
  
Jensen couldn't help but crack a small smile. Those puppy-dog eyes were a look he had seen many times on Jared's face under the guise of his character... but there was no doubt in his mind that this time, he was looking at the real deal.   
  
"Well, it's gotta suck being the size of a kit-kat bar. And... technically speaking, I actually owe you guys a great deal," he observed, half to himself. "Maybe this is some kind of cosmic karma." Never in a million years had it crossed his mind that he would get a chance to thank the Winchesters in person.   
  
His fingers canopied Sam once more as his steps took on a new speed. He tread down the steps of his trailer and ducked outside. Though his face drew several eyes, their gazes were fleeting as they were all hurried and absorbed in their own task. Jensen strode around the length of the trailer, and as promised, right up to the one next door. Disregarding the paper sign that labeled it as Jared's, he opened the unlocked door with his free hand and ducked inside.  
  
"That wasn't so bad, huh?" he mumbled, relieving Sam of his cramped enclosure and flattening out his hand. The inside of the trailer was about the same as Jensen's, with mild changes: different magazines were spread on the coffee table, picture of different people collages around the mirror on the right, and the TV left with NFL playing on mute.  
  
Sam stretched himself out once the air over his head was open. "No, not bad at all," he called up. Sam turned slowly in place on the palm, taking in the decor. It wasn't half bad, despite the fact everything was still colossal.  
  
He walked to the edge of Jensen's palm, peering down at the coffee table. "So this... Jared. He's an actor like you?" If Jensen was Dean, then... "Does he play... me?"  
  
Jensen nodded his confirmation. "That's the job. For the better part of a decade we've been doing your story." He looked down at the tiny man with a tense expression, wordlessly guarding him from falling with a second hand cupped around the first. "You guys have been through some serious crap. I mean, the demons and angels, the end of the world being nigh... all of that is real for you?"  
  
Sam stepped back when the second hand cupped around the first, nervous at the sight of the massive hand. He twisted around so he could look Jensen in the eyes. The expression on Jensen's face was reassuring, a care and curiosity that matched Dean's own showing through. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Unfortunately. Not to mention vampires, werewolves... chupacabra." He flopped his arms in an aggravated half-shrug. "What, you don't have any of that here?"  
  
"The scariest thing we've got around here is Lady Gaga," Jensen answered with a slightly sheepish smile. "We'd be screwed otherwise. I'd be trailing salt behind me everywhere I went." He chuckled faintly, finding it strangely awesome when he saw Sam's eyes light up with recognition for the use of salt.   
  
He glanced around the trailer, even checking inside the bathroom at the back. Besides them, it was empty. "No sign of him." He arched an eyebrow at Sam inquisitively. "You sure he was even transported here? There's nothing about any of this in the script."   
  
As Jensen talked Sam could feel his shoulders slump down, dejected. The thought of being stranded in a strange world less than three inches tall without Dean was horrifying. As nice as Jensen had turned out to be (and Sam was lucky he had, considering his current situation) he wasn't Dean. Sam simply didn't feel as safe with him as he did with Dean. Even with everything that had happened he still felt safer with his older brother.  
  
"No..." Sam said slowly. "I mean, I don't know. I was in Dean's pocket when the imp hit me. Dean was supposed to be getting a sword to trap her with." He reflected on Jensen's last words. "What do you mean 'it wasn't in the script?' "  
  
Jensen searched around the trailer, tossing what looked like other important papers around haphazardly. Finally, he found what he was looking for wedged between two seat cushions on the sofa.  
  
"Ah. Here we go. 'The Comeback Kid.’ "


	12. Chapter 12

Jensen took a seat on the couch and, in a sudden spurt of inspiration, arranged Sam onto his shoulder so he had his hands free. He unfolded the bundle of papers, revealing the title and episode number on the front page. He flipped through a bit, past the exposition.   
  
"See, everything you're talking about- the sword, the imp, you getting shrunk... That's the episode we're filming right now." Jensen showed him a few pages of dialogue between the boys, not able to see how Sam's face drained of blood as he read a transcript of his horrifying experiences. "But you popping up here like Dorothy into OZ? Not part of the plan."  
  
Sam stared down at the pages in shock. Everything was there.  _Everything._  Even him almost getting eaten by his brother. His grip tightened on the collar of Jensen's shirt to keep him steady. It was a few minutes before he managed to get his thoughts together to respond.  
  
"People... they  _want_  to watch this stuff? There's a show about our shitty-ass lives and they enjoy this?" He shook his head in disbelief. "This is as bad as those damn books..."  
  
Jensen started to shrug- he caught himself halfway into the motion, with Sam slumped up against his neck for support. He relaxed his shoulders again, giving Sam a better standing ground. "You're lighter than a pencil, aren't you?" he muttered, trying not to smirk.   
  
"I mean we're not topping the charts, but we get a solid enough viewership to keep getting renewed," Jensen went on, moving past the shoulder incident smoothly. "People going through a rough patch find you guys inspiring. Even me."  
  
Sam kept a hand against Jensen's neck, hoping to keep his balance if Jensen moved unexpectedly again. "Heh," he gave a self-deprecating laugh.  _Inspiring... me and Dean... who would have thought..._  "I guess whatever works..."  
  
He leaned over the edge of the shoulder, peering down. "Is there anything in there about what happened with the sword, or any clues about what the imp's up to?"  _Or any clues about where Dean is..._  He kept that last part to himself, not wanting to appear needy. It just felt  _weird_  to hear Dean's voice coming out of the man he was with and know that it wasn't Dean.  
  
Jensen flipped through the script, the papers rifling against each other as he sped-read through each scene.  
  
"Dean hands over the Samulet for the sword... They set up a trap in the motel room..." Jensen turned over another pages, green eyes scanning it for anything involving the imp. It was so strange to think that perhaps an entire timeline had been interrupted on their end. He avoided thinking about it too hard.   
  
"I mean, it says she shrinks Dean for a few minutes before they-- er, uh you guys-- manage to trap her, but after that.... That's pretty much it. Just the typical pow-wow in the Impala and some short jokes."    
  
Sam frowned to himself with his arms crossed over his chest. Aside from how weird it was hearing about himself and what he _would_  have done, it really did sound like the end of a normal case. “So we set up a trap for her and it worked…” he mused. Good to know they were on the right track. “If Dean managed to trade for the sword, maybe he still has it wherever he is.” His mind stumbled briefly over the thought of Dean giving up his amulet for it. It was hard to believe that was even a  _possibility._  “We need to find a way to stop her before she strikes again.”  
  


* * *

  
Half an hour had passed, and Dean was beginning to get desperate. There was no sign of Sam, high or low. There was no hard proof Sam was even in this TV-town with him... Which could only mean he was in close quarters with the imp.   
  
Outside the stage, he glimpsed the Impala sitting in the gleam of a cloudy day- full sized and glossy as ever. "Oh sweetheart, am I glad to see you," Dean purred under his breath.  
  
The first sprig of hope dared to well up as he ran for its door. Maybe Sam was stowed somewhere inside. So far, the Impala had been affected along with Sam in the shrinking curse. Maybe she was changing tactics.   
  
As he rounded a catering tent (and boy, oh boy, was he coming back for one of those philly cheesesteak subs later), Dean stopped short with a crestfallen expression. The Impala was only one in a long line of chevy Impalas, all in different conditions. Sick to his stomach at the surreal sight, Dean shook his head and cast his gaze elsewhere on the lot.  
  
"That's just wrong," he muttered.   
  
A studio head came out of the catering tent, talking on the phone. "Yeah, we'll cram the Sam photoshoot in later this afternoon. I don't care if the guy's booked, Reg! Make it happen!" He snapped his phone shut and started for a door that read "cast and crew only." The man was too tunnel-visioned on where he was headed to notice he was shadowed.   
  
Following his gut instinct, Dean followed inside. With each step forward in the maze of backstage, he felt a thrum inside. He had to be getting closer. That guy mentioned Sam's name, and if he was playing himself in a TV show... Maybe Sam was too.   
  
Amidst a crowd of unfamiliar faces, Dean's eyes locked onto a head of shaggy brown hair. Ignoring the mutters of surprise and lingering looks at his face, Dean approached the line of seats. At last, the man turned, and Dean's hopes were confirmed.   
  
"Damn, it's good to see you, Sammy." Dean threw his arms around his brother, squeezing him tightly. Once again, he was on the shorter end between them. But after the horrifying twelve hours with a shrunken brother, Dean wasn't complaining. He pulled away to look him over once more, finding Sam sturdy and full-size once again. Beaming, he clapping his hands on his shoulders.   
  
"Couldn't keep you down for long, huh?" Dean remarked on his newfound height. "Any sign of that imp bitch? I swear, this place is giving me the creeps."   
  


* * *

  
'Sam' was getting set up for filming when he was suddenly swept up into a bear hug.  
  
They were filming one of the scenes where he was sitting in Dean's pocket, so Jensen had been planning on going over a few lines on his own. Most of the time on set they spent together, even when it was only one or the other filming, for support if nothing else. But the scene was short, sweet and to the point, so he'd been able to talk Jensen into taking it easy for once. God knows the man deserved it. No one was more dedicated to his fellow actors.  
  
So the last thing he'd expected was Jensen practically tackling him on the set not twenty minutes before they were supposed to start shooting.  
  
It took a few seconds got it to sink into his brain that Jensen was calling him 'Sammy.'  
  
As he pulled out of the hug he saw the dark circles under Jensen's eyes. So the makeup artist hadn't tracked him down yet. Not that 'Sam' could blame him for seeming harried.   
  
This entire storyline they were doing was affecting him to. Just last night he'd woken up from disturbing nightmares - being trapped in a tiny car, almost getting stepped on, even the scene where Sam almost gets  _eaten..._  he'd never had problems like that before while filming. Lord knew they had enough creepy ass stories going on, why was  _this_  one so disturbing?  
  
So he humored Jensen as they pulled out of the hug, figuring he wanted to go over some lines before filming. It was a good way to calm the nerves and get in character. He cast his mind over the script he'd read.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Her magic must have worn off or something. Where you been, anyway?"  
  
"Looking for you," Dean said like it was obvious. He couldn't seem to keep a smile off his face. Even though they were stuck in this crappy alternate world, at least he had his brother back. Sammy was safe.   
  
"I gotta say man, you really had me worried. I mean the thought of you, the size of a cracker, wandering around this TV town..." Dean shook his head, giving the idle crew nearby a not-so-subtle look of distrust, knowing any one of them could have easily stepped on a shrunken Sam without being any the wiser.   
  
'Sam' frowned as Jensen went on.  _Did they change the script on me?_  He hadn't heard anything about planned changes... supposedly filming would be ending in another day for this episode.  
  
He clapped Jensen on the shoulder. "You feeling alright, man? Sounds like you could use some coffee..."  
  
Dean blinked and arched a stern eyebrow at the hand on his shoulder. Looking back up at his face, his green eyes narrowed in confusion.   
  
"Am I missing something here? You were three fucking inches tall!" Dean exclaimed, struggling to keep his voice down. Several producers turned their heads in their direction. "We've got a few things on the to-do list besides coffee, Sam."   
  
"Five minutes, Jared." A man wearing a pair of thick headphones around his neck patted the taller man on the back.   
  
Dean watched the guy go. He had to hand it to Sam, he was keeping his cool far better than he was. It was a bit unnerving, actually.   
  
"They got you pegged for some hotshot too. Get this, they think I'm some guy named Jensen." Dean scoffed a derisive chuckle. "What kind of preppy-ass name is  _Jensen?_  "  
  
Jared frowned. "It's  _your_  name, remember?"  
  
He took Jensen by the arm, leading him away from the set. "Look, you can't let this episode get to you. I know how you feel, trust me. Been having nightmares every night about what Sam gets put through. I mean, almost getting  _eaten?_  Seriously, who thinks of these things? You should take a break, put your feet up in your trailer for a few hours. I'll film my parts on my own, alright? Sound good?"  
  
Dean dug his heels in, breaking free from his grip. His green eyes darted all over his face, searching desperately for recognition in those familiar Hazel eyes. Everything about him was so utterly  _Sam_. And yet, it wasn't.   
  
"Oh crap, you're a part of this, aren't you?" Dean shook his head, mind made up. "You're not my brother.  _Fuck_ "   
  
He drug a hand over his face, weary of the fruitless search. As he raised his head, he found that Jared had brought him out side set, near a couple of huge-ass trailers. A sign on the door of the closest one read "J. ACKLES". Dean raised his eyebrows, jerking a thumb towards the trailer.  
  
"That mine?"  
  
"Uhh... yeah." Jared frowned. His eyes darted back to the set. Everyone was still involved in setup and his absence was so far unnoticed. A few more minutes helping Jensen out shouldn't be noticed.  
  
He pushed open the trailer door. With any luck all Jensen needed was a little coffee. Jared frowned when he saw Jensen's coffee cup on its side on the floor, abandoned.  
  
Dean spotted it, too. He gave the rest of the trailer of brief glance, coming over to crouch down by the abandoned coffee cup. He touched the side- still warm.   
  
"Someone was in a hurry," he muttered. Of course, it could have been a simple accident. Or maybe someone saw something that scared them out of their skin. Something like a shrunken Sam Winchester, maybe.   
  
Dean stood up and gave Jared an urgent frown. "Who else has access here?"   
  
“You… me… a few PA’s.” Jared frowned as he trailed Jensen into the trailer. The other man’s desperate search of the floor gave him a sinking suspicion. It was like Jensen thought he’d find something hiding from them down there. He grabbed Jensen by the arms. “Talk to me. What’s going on here?”  
  
Dean grit his teeth, facing Jared head-on. Only the slightest difference of gleam in this man's eyes cemented in him that this couldn't be his brother.  _No puppy eyes,_ Dean noted ironically.  How was he supposed to explain this when he didn't fully believe it himself?  
  
"This whole thing is a TV show, right? About Sam and Dean Winchester, hunting, the whole nine yards? Well, I'm the real deal. Dean Winchester, in the flesh." He motioned down at himself, once again wrestling free of Jared's grip. What was it with this guy and  _touching_? It was like this Jared was physically incapable of keeping his hands to himself.   
  
Jared couldn't help squinting at Jensen… Dean… whoever. He let out a laugh. “I think you’ve been working too hard here. You might want to take a day, get your head in the game. I mean, that’s just too crazy. Dean Winchester, real?” He flopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.  
  
Dean forced a laugh of his own, sounding more annoyed than amused. "Yeah, crazy," he dead-panned.  
  
 _Load of help this guy is._    
  
Seeing that trying to convince Jared was only a waste of time, he refocused onto his quest of finding Sam. Dean stalked around the couch, getting down on his hands and knees on the carpet. He pressed his face to the floor.   
  
"Uh... Jay, What are you doing?" Jared's voice sounded more apprehensive than ever.   
  
Ignoring the incorrect name, Dean peered under the shadowy crevice for any tiny bodies. "You guys ever have a roach problem in here?"   
  
"Um... No?"   
  
"Can't be too sure," Dean replied distractedly, moving with careful steps to peer behind the entertainment center under the TV. "I hear trailers like these are Hotel California for roaches." Dean swept a hand under the shelf. If Sam was hiding in here, he certainly had outdone himself.   
  
Jared stood, watching Jensen crawl around on the floor. He had to get back the set, but Jensen was pretty much having a mental breakdown.   
  
He needed help.  
  
Jared made his way over to the door. "Just... hang on. I'll... be right back."  
  
Before he could even touch the handle, the trailer door swung open and Jensen nearly collided with Jared.   
  
"Slacking off in my trailer again?" Jensen asked cooly, casually sliding his left hand down into his jeans pocket.  
  
Jared just gaped at him, stammering a few incoherent syllables as he glanced over his shoulder at Dean, still groping under furniture. Despite his six foot four stature, he was too shell-shocked to offer any resistance as Jensen pushed his way past.   
  
"Hey listen," Jensen announced, feigning exhaustion. "I'm gonna need-"   
  
He stopped in his tracks next to Jared, staring at the man across the room. The door squeaked shut, sealing them all into stunned silence.  
  
Dean raised his head slowly, keeping an eye on the pair across the room like they were escaped mental patients. It was incredibly surreal, staring at a mirror image of himself. He felt like had dosed up with the dream root all over again. The man was identical to him, head to toe. The only differences was that he was wearing a green jacket and had coffee stained splattered all over his stone washed jeans.  
  
"Let me guess--  _Jensen_?" Dean ambled closer. Somehow, despite everything, he managed to smirk. "You are a handsome devil, I'll give you that."   
  
Jensen raised his eyebrows, scoffing quietly in breathless disbelief. Breaking out of his daze, Jared fumbled to pull out his cell phone, snapping a picture of the surreal moment. Jensen and Dean swiveled their heads to the side, giving him identical withering looks.   
  
"If you post that to Twitter, I'm gonna--" Jensen started in on him. Jared waved his hands in his defense, looking taken aback by the identical glares on him.  
  
"I-I'm not. Just gonna need proof later that I'm not tripping on acid here," Jared tried to explain.   
  
Jensen narrowed his eyes at the cell phone, but was distracted in the next second. He glanced down to his pocket as if hearing a private conversation. Dean snapped his gaze down as well, noticing for the first time that Jensen hadn't moved his hand from his pocket the entire time. His heart lurched in his chest.   
  
"Right, right," Jensen muttered. "Hang on little guy."  
  
He carefully pulled his hand from his pants pocket, gingerly uncurling his fist between them to reveal a barely two and a half inch man sitting in his palm.   
  
"Sam," Dean breathed, leaning down closer to see his little face. "Damn, it's good to see you."


	13. Chapter 13

Jensen decided to return back to his trailer once their search for Dean in Jared's came up empty. Sam slumped down, sitting on the broad palm. Jensen's walk - so close to Dean's ambling stride - shook the hand enough he didn't feel stable standing.  
  
 _Now what?_  he thought to himself. Without Dean, he was up shit's creek without a paddle. Jensen was nice enough but he couldn't be expected to watch out for Sam constantly. Sam needed his brother, as much as he hated to admit it.   
  
They were only out in daylight for a minute. Jensen glanced around surreptitiously, curling his fingers up around Sam again for protection. Sam caught glimpses of the giants rushing around the set, keeping their heads down on task. Jensen got the usual curious glances but nothing out of the ordinary. No one freaked out about the tiny person he had cupped in his hand.  
  
Jensen pushed open the door to his trailer. His voice rumbled overhead. Sam barely had time to register another person in the room before the fist curled around him. He gave a yelp as Jensen put his hand in his pants, sending Sam tumbling into his fingers with the quick motion.  
  
"What... the hell!" he grumbled to himself as he tried to stand inside the tight confines. The fingers flexed around him, drawing tighter. Sam froze, hoping Jensen wasn't about to squish him. But they stopped. Just a reflex.  
  
He realized there were voices overhead. Jensen was talking to someone. Sam frowned, his forehead creasing. That was Jensen's voice, but the usual vibrations from talking were absent.  
  
Which meant...  
  
"DEAN!" Sam shouted. He scrambled against the wall. His brother was so close! "Jensen, lemme outta here!" He threw a punch into the wall of fingers, hoping to get Jensen's attention. He hated being this small. "That's my brother!"  
  
The world moved around him again as the hand rose out of the pocket. Sam righted himself once it was flat again. The fingers unfurled over his head.  
  
Sam gave a gasp of relief when he spotted Dean leaning down over him. "Dean." His voice was full of relief, thankful he was finally near his brother. He didn't even care he was standing on a stranger's hand. It didn't matter anymore.  
  
The happy reunion was interrupted by a spluttered gasp of "What is  _that?!"_  from the last person in the trailer. Jared almost looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. He had his phone still in position for pictures but couldn't get over the sight of the tiny Sam Winchester.  
  
Jensen threw him a look. "It's... it's  _Sam_."  
  
"Sam," Jared repeated loudly, gaping at him. "Sam...  _my_  Sam? Sam Winchester?" he looked at Dean, hazel eyes finally widening with understanding. "And he's-- I mean  _you're_ \--" He dropped his long arms to his side, looking overwhelmed.  
  
"One of a kind," Dean finished for him. He caught sight of his mirror image in Jensen not even a foot away, and his expression flattened somewhat. "You know what I mean."   
  
Jared looked to Jensen again, desperate for some sort of concrete support in this insanity. He ran a hand agitatedly through his long brown hair. "T-This.... holy shit!"   
  
"Keep your voice down." Jensen hushed him. "We're lucky Clif hasn't caught onto the fact that our doppelgängers are strolling around the fucking set."  
  
Jared nodded mutely, eyes fixating on Sam. He braced his hands on his knees, stooping down close as he could. Jensen held Sam a little closer to his stomach as an automatic safeguard, but he trusted his friend enough that he didn't sway. Jared found himself staring at what appeared to be a very tiny version of himself.  
  
Sam lowered his hands from his ears as Jared leaned in. It was unreal. Seeing his own face staring down at him from so high above, wearing the same clothes as Sam ground into him just how out of place he and Dean were right now. Sam even more so than Dean.  
  
He took a few steps along the plushy palm towards his doppelgänger. The immensity of everything wasn’t bothering him as much anymore. Dean was nearby and Sam knew he was safe. Even with the three immense giants standing there, all their gazes trained on Sam, it wasn’t so bad. Dean was Dean… and something inside told him he could trust Jensen and Jared.   
  
“So… Jared, right?” Sam asked, remembering the name from his conversation with Jensen earlier. He jutted out a hand. “Sam Winchester.”  
  
Jared’s eyes almost bugged out of his head at how forward his miniature double was. His attention was completely focused on the tiny little guy, ignoring the other two in the room. He tentatively reached forward with his hand, slowing when Sam stiffened as it neared. The comparison between Sam and his hand alone was almost too much to take in. But the little guy didn’t flinch, even as Jared gently closed his index finger and thumb over the little hand.  
  
 _Hand? Try half his arm…_ Jared thought to himself truthfully.  
  
After lifting Sam’s arm up an infinitesimal amount to simulate a handshake, Jared finally found his voice. Some of it, at least.  
  
“H-hey,” he got out. “Good to… good to meet you, Sam.” He pulled away from the ‘handshake,’ straightening. His face fell when he realize Sam’s face was too small to read from where he was standing. No way to gauge the little Winchester’s reactions.  
  
His eyes flicked from Jensen’s to Dean’s. “What the hell’s going on?”  
  
"The imp happened." Dean said. "The little bitch has been screwing us over and now she's brought us here. Got a real funky size kink, if you haven't noticed."   
  
"Everything in the script... It really happened." Jensen built on, confirming with a haunted look from Dean.   
  
"Except this," Jared mumbled. "Alright, so what do we gotta do to fix this? You guys used a sword to trap her before right?"   
  
"Sword's no good." Jensen shook his head. "All the weapons on set are harmless. All rubber and plastic."  
  
Dean relentlessly eyed up his little brother, the anxiety building in him until he clapped a hand on Jensen's shoulder.   
  
"Hey, uh... tou mind?" Dean made a "gimme" motion in regards to the two and a half inch man in his possession.   
  
"Oh, sure. Yeah." Jensen agreed easily. "I'm not one to split up the Winchesters." He chuckled weakly.   
  
Jensen flattened out the hand under Sam's feet, allowing Dean to gingerly gather him into his own protective hands.   
  
Sam couldn’t help rolling his eyes at Dean’s possessiveness. Not that he minded being close to his brother again - far from it. Jensen seemed nice enough, but he wasn’t Dean. And the familiar face, so close yet so far to Dean made it all feel off.  
  
He focused back on the problem once he was standing safely cupped in Dean’s hand, held close to the massive chest behind him. “Swords aren’t the only way to trap an imp,” Sam reminded everyone. Their eyes turned towards him again, almost making him freeze up. Being the center of attention for not one giant but  _three_ was not for the weak of heart.  
  
 _Oh, Sammy… you boys never learn._  
  
The words fled from Sam’s mouth at the thought that intruded in his mind. He knew that voice all too well.  
  
The imp.  
  
She flickered into view, still the same height as Sam. A sinuous forked red tail wrapped around Sam, drawing him close to her. “You brought me new playmates,” she purred. “I  _love_  making new friends!"  
  
"Fuck!" Jared screeched, jumping away. Jensen assumed a tense stance, ready to make a stand of some sort. They were both wound as tight as could be, eyes wide and unwavering upon the imp.   
  
"Miss me?" The imp turned, grinning up at Dean.   
  
"So much," Dean growled.   
  
He pinched the imp by her waist in a merciless grip between his finger and thumb. He felt her ribs strain and bend easily under the pressure. The imp's icy blue eyes slid over to Sam, tightening her tail around him until it was cutting in through his plaid shirt. Sam sputtered, his air supply restricted.  
  
Sensing a stalemate, Dean released her. The iron grip around his little brother was uncoiled, and Sam slumped in relief. Dean stared her down furiously, narrowing his angry green eyes at her. She was using Sam as a meat shield again, knowing that Dean wouldn't make a move when his little brother was at risk of becoming collateral damage.   
  
"Fix my brother you little whore, or I'm gonna-"   
  
"You'll what?" she sneered. "Kill me? Great job so far." She laid her cheek against Sam's neck, taking a greedy inhalation of the scent of his skin. "But who am I do deny a faithless man's prayers?"   
  
She felt Sam twist around towards her uncomfortably, surprise in his tense Hazel eyes. "He didn't tell you? He's been  _praying_ about you, Sammy. Big brother's out of options. Shame no one can hear him here. He's out of soul phone range."   
  
Dean swallowed as Sam looked up at him. It was the hardest thing in the world, to be faced by those pleading hazel eyes and coming up short of answers. The imp smiled. "Don't worry, though, Dean. I will fix your brother."  
  
Sam held a hand against his ribs with his shaky breath. "Just like that? After all you put us through, you're gonna fix me?"  
  
She met his hazels with a grin, but now he could see the sneer behind it. Sam's heart sank.  _No way is it this easy…_  he thought to himself. She had to be playing them again.  
  
Her tail loosened from Sam, freeing his arms. Before he out Dean could react, she pressed against Sam with a hungry kiss. "I'll see you on the other side," she whispered to him before she let go.  
  
She pushed off Dean's palm, wings outstretched for flight. Sam had to catch his balance when Dean lunged for the imp, long fingers grazing a wing.  
  
Everything around Sam lit up in a blinding white glare. He saw Jensen standing defensively with his arms up, Jared at a distance gripping the couch, Dean diving for the imp. Then all he saw was white.  
  
The last thing he heard before the world vanished was an angrily predictable  _"Sonovabitch!"_


	14. Chapter 14

When the dust settled, everything appeared relatively normal. A few pictures had fallen off the walls, but no real catastrophic damage was evident within Jensen's trailer. Jared raised his head, bracing his feet on the floor as he watched an identical version of himself do the same about a yard away.   
  
"Sam! You- you're fixed," Jared exclaimed in disbelief. That was putting it lightly. Sam had grown from two and half inches to six and a half feet in the blink of an eye. Jared looked around the rest of the trailer. By all appearances, they were alone. Dean and Jensen were nowhere to be found.   
  
"Did she take them?" He looked up at Sam, already knowing the hunter knew about as much as he did right now about what was to come.    
  
Both men went still as a rustling sound came from the floor. Tense, they braced themselves for a new round of the imp's magic. On the floor, one of the fallen set photos rocked back and forth. At last, a tiny arm shot out from underneath it, even tinier fingers pinching the glossy paper to heave the huge paper off.   
  
Jensen shielded his eyes from the immense fluorescent bar bulbs hanging in the cathedral height room. He looked all around the foreign landscape, green eyes just about ready to pop from his head as he made sense of the two huge beings as his long-time friend... and one that was undoubtedly Sam Winchester himself. He braced himself, pale as a sheet as the giants leaned over him.  
  
"Oh fuck me..." Jensen groaned.   
  
Sam made his way over to the movement on the floor, praying it was Dean down there. And yet he hoped his brother had escaped this awful fate. He knelt down, dropping a hand on either side of the shrunken actor as he squinted down, trying to make out any discerning features. "Dean?"  
  
No recognition came back to him. Sam's heart sunk as he spotted a coffee stain on the itty bitty jeans. "Jensen," he said, getting a confirming look from him.  
  
Jared started to make his way over to Sam, only to be frozen by a glare from the hunter. "Watch your step! Dean could be anywhere around here... fuck." Sam glanced around the floor, hoping he hadn't smooshed his brother already. He examined the bottom of his boots but found nothing.  
  
His heart thudded uneasily in his chest, remembering his first experiences at that size. He'd almost been crushed under his brother's boots, but at least he had the Impala for backup... there was no way he could have outrun Dean or gotten his brother's attention without the car.  
  
Jared was still frozen in place, hazel eyes scanning the floor. He couldn't spot the tiny hunter anywhere. Papers were scattered all over the place, and Dean could be under any of them. Keeping his feet motionless, he started to gather up the papers, keeping a sharp eye out for Dean.  
  
Sam pinched the picture still partly covering the tiny man on the floor, wanting to help the little guy. It was to heavy for him to get off without help. "Holy shit... I was  _this_  small?" He lifted the picture off Jensen, freeing him to stand on the floor. "You alright? She didn't hurt you, did she?"  
  
Jensen took a few steps away from the huge photo. He shook off the constricting feeling of being trapped and surveyed his surroundings.   
  
"No, everything's accounted for, aside from losing six fuckin' feet," he muttered.   
  
Sam stooped down closer, unable to hear him. Jensen threw his arms up and shot the giant Winchester a defensive glare. Sam slowed immediately, but that didn't stop the teeny heart from throbbing defensively. Jensen shot him a tense thumbs up instead of trying to shout. Sam nodded, backing off a bit.   
  
Jensen's light eyebrows knit together, unable to stop his heart hammering in his chest. The adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream was uncanny. Of course, it was understandable considering he was corralled in by a giant hand on either side. It was unreal. He could even see the the ridges on Sam's fingernail. The first joint of his finger alone was obviously longer than his entire calf. And whenever Sam raised his head, Jensen had a clear view right up his nose. He frowned, realizing that Sam must have experienced the same when he'd been carrying him. Good to know.   
  
"I liked you better when you were shorter," he remarked, again going practically unheard by the giant doppelgängers.  
  
Jensen's gaze drifted to Jared, stomach knotting up. Even from over here, the papers he picked up sent a noticeable breeze ruffling Jensen's short hair. Taking the excuse to get space from those horribly familiar, horribly huge hands, he stepped over a few more of the loosed pictures. He took care to avoid a lopsided thumbtack sitting ominously on its side, certain the pin could pierce through him like a rapier at this size.  
  
While Sam and Jared made progress through the papers, Jensen helped search for Dean as he could. But as time ticked on, their hope became slim. Dean was nowhere to be found. And to make matters worse, they were out of time.   
  
"Where the hell is he?" An irate voice bled through the walls of the trailer. Coming closer. Jensen and Jared froze where they were, catching each other's eyes. They both recognized the voice of the episode director.   
  
Soon, the carpet under Jensen's feet shook as the director climbed the steps to the trailer door.   
  
"Crap," he hissed.   
  
A massive understatement.   
  
"Jared!" A hard pound on the door. "You in here?"   
  
Jared tensed at the voice, casting a glance over at Sam and Jensen. A terse stare passed between him and his double. Jared nodded at Sam then opened the door, stepping out as fast as he could. It closed behind him before the director could catch a glimpse of the confusing scene within.  
  
Sam let out a breath of relief once the room was closed off again. They shouldn’t need to worry about discovery until someone was searching for Jensen. With any luck that wouldn’t happen any time soon. He turned his attention back to the smaller man with a wry grin. The strange reversal had his stomach in knots. He couldn’t imagine how Jensen felt. The actor hadn’t even  _known_ about the supernatural until today. It had to be so much worse for him.  
  
Sam paused, then extended a hand to the smaller man. “We should, ah… get you off the floor before anyone else comes around. Don’t want to risk something happening to you down there.”  
  
Jensen stared stiffly at the hand for several lengthy moments. His green eyes skated up and down the length of the fingers and lined palm, leading up to an arm as thick as a sequoia and a body that was even more devastatingly titanic.   
  
"Yeah." Jensen muttered distantly.  Running his tongue over his full lips, he braced himself and took the first step onto the giant hand. The traction was fleshy, making his knees buckle. He adjusted quickly, managing to take a stance in the pit of Sam's palm without keeling over.   
  
He chuckled weakly, knowing this was precisely how Sam must have felt in his hand not even ten minutes ago. "Talk about turning tables, huh?" he asked, then cleared his throat to restore its usual depth.   
  
"Heh," Sam tried to get out a laugh at the joke. His attention was caught by the feeling of the tiny boots on his hand. Jensen was so small he almost couldn't feel the weight of the little man. "Hope my hands as steady as yours were."  
  
His eyes flashed to the door for a second, remembering all the dangers out there for someone Jensen's size. After a moment's hesitation, he looked back down at Jensen. "Hold on, alright? I'm gonna stand up."  
  
His fingers curled up, surrounding the actor so he couldn't fall off the hand by accident. Sam got to his feet deliberately, aware of every movement. Even the slightest shaking of his hand could dash Jensen helplessly against the ground. Sam couldn't afford to let his guard down in the slightest. He needed to repay the care the other man had paid him when he was small. After spending so long small, Sam understood the trust it took.  
  
Once he was standing the fingers uncurled to give Jensen some space. "You holding up alright?"  
  
Jensen looked around a bit dizzily, working hard to keep up with this bizarre, wonderland-like scenario. He thought holding a teeny-tiny person was bad enough. But it turned out being the one held in a giant's hand was so much worse.  
  
"No," the tiny actor sighed. "Tell you the truth, I'm not."  
  
He craned his neck, looked up at Sam's huge hazels with wariness, but no fear. "I mean I'm... I'm standing in the hand of a guy who's not supposed to exist!" He threw his arms out for emphasis at Sam's bulk. "This is way above my pay grade. But it's not like we get a say in the matter. Best we can do is keep truckin' and figure out how to fix this."   
  
He paused briefly as Sam's fingers adjusted behind him. Jensen twisted around, the tendons pulling under his shoes. As he turned around and caught sight of the drop, his heart sank. This wasn't even six feet off the ground and it looked like a mountainous height. Jensen shivered, needing no further incentive.   
  
"I know the feeling. I still find it hard to believe people actually want to watch our lives. Or how you two are completely identical to me and Dean." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head at the strange thought.  
  
Jensen tried to ignore the movements, focusing back on the problem they’d been discussing before his world had flip flopped. "Alright, so if we don't have an ancient sword, what else can we use to get rid of the imp?" Jensen asked, racking his brain to the stuff the writers had put in his script notes.    
  
Sam frowned in concentration. He thought back to the research he and Dean had done before being zapped off to this strange world. "There was something about trapping an imp in a crystal ball. Dean was all for the sword, but if we can find a crystal ball that should do in a pinch. And we can get that bitch to bring my brother back."  
  
"The prop house," Jensen said. "It's a warehouse on property. Within walking distance from here. Or- walking distance for you at least," he admitted, glancing down at himself. "All the weapons are harmless, but we've got an arsenal of crystal balls from that psychic episode we did a while back."  
  
“Sounds like a plan.” Sam eyed up the tiny man on his hand. “Will you be okay on my hand like that, or did you want to go in the pocket?” He gave a small laugh, remembering his own time like that. “I know it’s not ideal…”  
  
A flicker of annoyance dashed through Jensen's eyes, even though he knew it was uncalled for. Riding in another man's pocket had never been on his bucket list, but it was about to get crossed off.   
  
"You kidding? Anyone sees me like this, I'll never hear the end of it." His mind flickered briefly to his wife. He could only imagine the look on Danneel's face when she stumbled upon  _that_  article. Jensen arched an eyebrow skeptically, but nodded at the pocket.   
  
Sam obliged with admirable care in his movement. When he was close enough, Jensen pulled the lip of the jacket pocket out towards him and peered down into the dark fabric folds, gauging the drop. He braced one arm around the joint of Sam's finger as he swung a leg over and dropped down. His otherwise solid landing was foiled by the flexible fabric. He was bounced onto his side from the impact. Jensen stood and brushed himself off with as much dignity as he could manage. He craned his neck back and just about slammed himself into the corner when he saw the giant hand diving for him... No, not for him. Sam was just pulling open the flap to look in at him.   
  
"Roomy," Jensen half-shouted, unnerved but conversational all the same. He ambled up to the button hole at the front of the pocket. If he stood up straight, he could see through the slit into the trailer. He glanced up again over his head.   
  
"Sam, can you hear me from here?"   
  
“Yeah, I can hear you. A little quiet, but clear enough.” Sam cocked his head, trying to see into the pocket better. “I’m going to head out of here, see if I can find the crystal balls.”  
  
He put a hand on the doorknob. “Hopefully no one sees me and Jared together… that might raise a few questions. And… I might need some directions to the prop house.”  
  
The door clicked shut behind them.


	15. Chapter 15

When Dean woke up, the world was falling to pieces.   
  
At least, it felt like it was. The ground was quaking with relentless tremors that put the Richter scale out of business. Dean scrambled to stand on unsteady feet, whipping his gaze back and forth.   
  
"Sammy?" The instinctive phrase, perpetually on the top of Dean's tongue, was the first word out of his mouth.   
  
There was no sign of his brother, but he wasn't alone. He was under some sort of tent-like structure, with squared wooden poles at least three feet wide. He craned his neck back: the poles seemed to stretch on for the length of a speedway into the sky, culminating in a taut black canvas stretched between them. Between the wooden poles, Dean could see shoes. Dozens of them. Huge, massive, daunting giants stomping this way and that across the dusty floor. His stomach dropped to his feet when it dawned on him that the earthquakes were merely  _footsteps_.    
  
Given his experience with Sam for the last 24 hours, it didn't take him more than a few seconds to piece together what had happened.  
  
"I'm a friggin' borrower," Dean dismayed under his breath.  
  
And an extra puny one at that. He remembered holding Sam in the palm of his hand only minutes ago. Standing up straight, his little brother hadn't even been three inches tall. Dean swallowed hard, realizing that he was likely around the same size right now.  
  
Without some sort of cover, he was trapped here, lest he risk death by sneaker. He could only stand in place, watching the giants go about their business with not a single glance thrown in his direction. He may as well been invisible. Within a few seconds, Dean had already pictured himself starring in  _50 Shades of Smushed into a Bloody Smear on the Floor_.   
  
Morbid creativity at its best.  
  
New voices were raised above the others, coming closer:   
  
"You can't just disappear and pull that diva card on us, Jared! That's soap opera crap!" the episode director said, stressed out to say the least.   
  
"Sorry. I just needed to go over my lines real quick. Lost my script," Jared lied through his teeth.   
  
The director pulled his own folded, marked-up script out of his back pocket and pressed it into Jared's hands.  
  
"You've got five minutes. We've got two pages to shoot and we're already gonna be extending till eight tonight." With that, he stomped off to discuss camera angles with the DP.   
  
Dean flinched back into the middle of the space as Jared's shoes spun towards his hiding place. He walked right up to the chair and took a seat. The whole structure shook as he got comfortable, and Dean went rigid as he looked up to watch the cloth ceiling to concave from the weight sinking down into it.   
  
It wasn't Sam. But considering he at least knew what was going on with the imp now, this guy was his best chance of finding Sam again and getting out of here un-smushed.  
  
 _Five minutes._    
  
He had five minutes before Jared got up to shoot his scene and Dean was trapped down here indefinitely. The slip-on leather boots landed on the floor in front of him. At this size, that was the only part of his body he had access to. Dean felt his cheeks heat up. Dean fucking Winchester, the hunter that monsters had nightmares about... smaller than a shoe. Hell, just the heel of the giant boot was as long as he was tall. And thick enough to reach his shin, easily.   
  
This wasn't going to be easy.  
  
Dean's heart flitted fearfully inside his chest as he stepped out of the shadows- the same type of quiet fear he got before any hunt. The kind that came from a raw, human need to  _survive_.   
  
Standing out in the open next to Jared's gigantic shoe, Dean was entirely on edge, ready to jump back at a moment's notice if someone screamed at the sight of him. Surprisingly, he had a sliver of luck: the crew were currently giving Jared a pretty wide berth. And those who did happen to glance his way certainly weren't wasting time ogling his feet.  
  
Not having any more time to waste, Dean gave the side of the boot a hard look before giving it a stern kick. He craned his neck back. He couldn't even see Jared's face from here! Just his legs, towering up towards the ceiling until they bent at the knee. Dean grit his teeth and tried again. He kicked the side of the shoe over and over... only managing to make himself sore. Jared didn't so much as twitch under Dean's attack.   
  
"Son of a bitch..." Dean groaned, stepping back under the wooden beam of the chair leg to recollect his thoughts. Apparently, his miniature aggression wasn't even registering to the giant. Not through that thick leather anyway. His green eyes drifted higher. His ankle. That could work. It'd be a bit of a climb, but it wasn't impossible.   
  
 _Three minutes_.   
  
Dean clenched his jaw and set to climbing the shoe, grabbing hold of the crumpled denim cuffs of the jeans once he was high enough. It made his stomach clench to look around and realize he was literally  _standing on a fucking shoe_. How the hell had his brother ever been anything less than hysterical at such a puny size?   
  
Before Dean could so much as raise his voice, the world suddenly turned over around him.   The shoe beneath him shifted as Jared casually crossed his ankle on his knee. Dean was swung into the air with the motion, clinging to the jeans for all he was worth. Jared's eyes remained on his script, not hearing the teeny tiny curses spewing from his ankle.   
  
"Shit." Dean barely dared to breath. He didn't have to look down to feel the lethal free fall awaiting him. All it would take was a flick of the ankle to send him to his death.    
  
Dean clawed at the thick denim and dug his heels in deep, holding his spot for all he was worth against the taunting threat of gravity. He craned his neck desperately for some sort of eye contact with Jared, but Dean couldn't see past the crinkled ankles of the blue jeans. He grit his teeth with effort as Jared tilted his ankle absentmindedly, still moving his tiny refuge without knowing.    
  
 _Come on, you big idiot. Look down!_    
  
Jared waved off a PA as he took his seat to go over the script. Drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the arm of his chair, he tried to concentrate on the script in front of him.  
  
It was a lost cause. Jensen was back in the trailer downsized to a Polly-fucking-Pocket and Dean was missing, gone God-knows-where. Based on their luck so far, nowhere good. And Jared couldn't even help in the search.  
  
He shifted in his seat, crossing his ankle casually over his knee. Resting the script on his bent leg, he gave another attempt at focus.  
  
It was close to his time to go when a movement on his ankle caught his eye.  _Is that a bug...?_  
  
Jared leaned over, squinting down at the little thing. Realizing what it was, he gasped, jerking away at the sight of a tiny person, clinging desperately to his ankle for all they were worth.  
  
" _Holy shit!_  " Jared blurted out. He shot out a hand to catch the little guy just as he slipped, jarred by Jared's unexpected movement. The tiny body plopped into his hand, landing on the firm cushioning of his thick skinned palm.  
  
He lifted the hand closer to his eyes, trying to make out the features of the guy cupped in his hand. "Dean?!"  
  
Dean was speechless. It hurt, staring up at that moon-sized face. Hearing Sam's voice and seeing those searching eyes... And knowing it wasn't him. Every bit of this was horrifying. Being hoisted up in that massive hand felt like flying without any restraints. Dean looked pale green as Jared's huge hazels honed in on him. He twitchily looked around at the fingers taller and stronger than his entire body. His stomach twisted as he realized this was how Sam had seen him for the last 24 hours.   
  
"No need to share the burger breath," Dean greeted under his breath, scooting away from that far-too-close face. When he was a better distance away (not that he could go very far in his vulnerable position), Dean got right down to business: "Where's my brother?"  
  
Jared frowned at the small insult from Dean, then pushed it off. It was exactly the way he'd expect Dean to act after all these years filming. It was strange to hear the insults from the man himself instead of Jensen in character.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure yours was no picnic for Sam," Jared jabbed back. He pushed down the tiny bit of guilt he felt, arguing with a guy who couldn't beat a finger in height. He kept his fingers arched over Dean's head, praying none of the cameras were pointed in his direction. This was the last thing he needed anyone seeing, right up there next to Sam wandering around.  
  
"Sam's back in the trailer. He's back to normal, all six and a half feet of him, and Jensen's been downsized." Jared approximated Jensen's height with two fingers. "Same as you."  
  
He peered closer, checking for any signs he'd hurt the pocket sized hunter. "You alright? And how'd you end up clinging to my _pants?_  "  
  
Dean's little shoulders slumped in quiet relief as Jared filled him in. At least he didn't have to worry about Sam getting stepped on by his doppelgänger this time around while they were separated. Or by anyone else for that matter. But they were still trapped in this parallel universe and Dean was still barely two and half inches tall. They were far from out of the woods.    
  
His thoughts cut short when he felt his platform move, and Jared's gigantic face surged forward towards him. In his haste to recover much-needed personal space, Dean's shoe caught in the crease of Jared's palm and ended up falling hard on his ass.   
  
"Alright, that's close enough, Goliath," Dean griped. "Give a guy some space, huh?" He gave the giant a desperate glare, knowing that there was nothing he could do to actually make Jared comply.   
  
The Sam look-alike backed off a few inches, and Dean realized that was as good as it was gonna get. With an irate, uncomfortable huff, Dean tried to pick up his train of thoughts to answer the question.  
  
"Sneaking a ride on your jeans is about the last thing either of us wanted,  _believe me_. But I couldn't exactly waltz up and tap you on the shoulder from the floor. This imp is a real piece of work, lemme tell ya..."   
  
“She definitely is. All the shit she’s pulled...” Jared’s ears caught his name being shouted across the room. He glanced up in surprise, meeting the gaze of the director. He was standing next to the set tapping his watch.  
  
 _Shit, five minutes goes fast…_  Seeing one of the PA’s coming over to him, Jared stood up with a start, shoving the hand holding Dean into his pants. It curled protectively around Dean as he tumbled down into the fabric. He couldn’t afford to let anyone know about the small hunter. They’d most likely think he was pranking him, not to mention it’d be dangerous for Dean to be around anyone else at his size.  
  
“Yep, sorry about that.” Jared tossed the script on his chair, walking briskly over to the set. “Just had to remember a few small parts,” he gave his most charming smile, wishing it was more effective on his co-workers than it was.  
  
"Son of a bi- _mmnnph!_  "   
  
Dean's tiny voice was easily muffled between the denim layers. He writhed immediately, panicked in the enclosed space. He squirmed to get out of the giant fingers, twisting one leg free at a time before falling even deeper into the tight space past Jared's knuckles. He was stuck there for a moment with all the blood rushing to his head. Jared's voice boomed out overhead and without warning, his hand withdrew.   
  
In the newfound space, Dean plunked straight to the bottom. He groaned, twisting around with some difficulty to get on his back. Even sitting up was a challenge. The pocket was constantly in unpredictable motion, squeezing Dean against Jared's leg and releasing him again with every step.  
  
Other loud voices clamored outside the pocket, along with a whine of some machine.  
  
"Oh hell no," Dean grunted, straining his upper body strength to pull himself higher. "I'm not your friggin' pocket pal."   
  
He hammered his fist against Jared's leg. They didn't have time for this!  He had to find Sam!   
  


* * *

  
Jared acted out the scene in a haze, barely able to concentrate on what he was doing. After all, he had an itty bitty hunter squirreled away in his pocket! Who'd be able to even  _think_  about their job when they were caught up in something so massively, _massively_ , crazy?  
  
If he paid attention, he could feel Dean wriggling around against his leg. He seemed  _pissed_ , which Jared could understand, but still. It wasn't  _his_  fault Dean was here! And there was no other place he could put the guy that would be safe, not on a set in the middle of the frickin’ day! Not to mention there was no way of knowing when the little imp would strike again. From what he'd seen while acting out this messed up storyline, she liked to catch everyone off guard. And she certainly seemed to favor Sam out of the two brothers.  
  
It was a long twenty minutes, spent trying to get his lines right with all the major distractions going around. From what he could tell, Dean certainly hadn't given up on getting out of the pocket, if all the movement was any indication. The entire time Jared wished Dean would stop trying to draw attention to himself. What if someone else saw his pocket moving like that?  
  
At last, the director called a short break while they reset a few of the props. Jared gave a sigh of relief and slipped away from the set, out of sight. He stuck his hand into his pocket, afraid of what he'd draw out. As gently as he could, he curled his hand around the small body in there, drawing Dean out into the light.  
  
"Hanging in there?"  
  
Dean glowered up at him, equal parts humiliated and furious. His short blonde hair had the looks of a long night of tossing and turning- or  _really_  bad sex hair.   
  
"Fantastic," he answered with a smile so sarcastic, Jared wilted a bit. Dean ignored this and continued pointlessly dusting himself off, as if he could physically peel away how violated he felt.   
  
"Oh, and in case you were wondering, you have a nice big hole in your pocket," Dean tacked on with a note of trauma, jabbing an accusing finger towards Jared's bulk.  "And there's  _no way_  I can unsee what I saw in there!"   
  
Jared barely held in a roll of his eyes. "You know, you have an  _awfully_  big mouth for such a little guy," he shot back. "We have a bit of time before I have to be back on set. We need to find where Sam and Jensen got off too. I know Sam's worried about what happened to you after the condition we found Jensen in."  
  
He glanced around, checking for any onlookers. "How do you want to do this? Staying in my hand might not be the best plan."  
  
Dean frowned. "They didn't tell you where they were headed?"   
  
Great. In the dark again.   
  
Pushing past his irritation for Sam's doppelgänger, Dean raked a critical gaze up and down the giant bearing him aloft. The best options were undoubtedly above the belt area. But after the last half an hour filling in as pocket change, Dean was decidedly against the idea of another cloth prison.   
  
He glanced behind him again for any nosy crew or cast before speaking up again. "Bring me up to your shoulder. By the collar."  
  
"Are... you sure that's safe?" Jared asked, concerned.  
  
At the withering glare he received in turn, he let out a soul-suffering sigh, feeling a surge of empathy for Sam. The tiny hunter was enough of a handful at under three inches, he could imagine what Sam went through when Dean was full-sized.  
  
"Alright, your funeral," he muttered, giving in. He lifted the hand up to his shoulder, holding steady for Dean. "Just... try to stay out of sight, okay? And... don't look down," he said, belatedly remembering the hunter's fear of heights.  
  
Dean occupied himself by grabbing two fistfuls of the canvas collar, supporting his weight as he slung a leg over the slope of Jared's shoulder. Once he was free of the giant hand, he suddenly felt naked. A warm breeze that very well could have just been Jared's breath threatened to make him waver. Swallowing didn't help the sudden dryness of his mouth. Despite his better judgement, Dean looked past the edge of Jared's hand... All the way down to the ground. It was like looking down from the Empire State Building's top floor, down where the floor was so distant, it looked blurry.  _Deadly._  
  
"Shit," he breathed, his voice practically reduced to a squeak to match his size.   
  
Suddenly queasy, Dean dropped back down to a crouch and frantically looked for something more steady than a meager piece of a jacket. He scrambled to Jared's neck, backing right up into the thick wall of skin. He pressed so desperately into Jared, he could feel the hammering pulse pick up at his back, rocking him gently.   
  
"Worse than planes," Dean panted. "For God's sake, Jared, do you gotta move your shoulder to breathe?" His eyes were widened from fear, his tiny calloused hands pulling at fistfuls of the plaid collar like a lifeline.   
  
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Jared said dryly. It was so strange. He could feel the hunter’s tiny body huddled against his neck, almost shuddering at the height. Someone’s  _entire body_  was right there, in that tiny bit of pressure on his shoulder. It was almost impossible to believe.  
  
Jared reached up a hand, making sure the small hunter was steady on him since he couldn’t exactly look at Dean the way he was pressed against Jared’s neck. “Dean, are you sure you’re gonna be okay? You know, I really don’t mind carrying you in my hand if it keeps you alive.”  
  
"But then people'll start wondering why you're walking around with a tiny person in your hands," Dean said with a strained chuckle.   
  
He shifted in the flesh-colored shade that Jared's massive hand provided. Dean narrowed his eyes at the lines and patterns of his palm, taking a distracted moment to notice at the guy had hardly any callouses. Had this pansy  _really_  ever shot a gun in his life?   
  
 _Focus,_  Dean scolded himself.   
  
The tiny hunter accessed his limited view of his perch. With the terrifying view to the floor cut off, it was a little easier to calm his breathing. He'd been tortured in Hell itself, Dean reasoned. He could make this work, even if he was the size of a corn chip.   
  
Jared arched an eyebrow as he felt a very tiny pair of hands roughly gathering up locks of his hair from behind his ears, rearranging them. Dean heaved the edge of Jared's shirt collar over his legs. He snapped one of the threads and secured it through two belt loops on his jeans as a precautionary safety line.   
  
"Alright, Jare, I'm good," Dean said, patting the hot neck. "Practically invisible up here." He smirked briefly. "I'll just be like the little angel on your shoulder. Or you know, the less-douchey version."   
  
Jared couldn't stop a chuckle at the thought. He couldn't see what Dean had done back there, but he certainly sounded confident. Considering Dean's crippling fear of heights, he must have secured himself somehow. "Make sure you hold on then," Jared cautioned. "We'll check Jensen's trailer. That's where I left them before the scene you found me at."  
  
He started walking towards the trailers, talking gamely to the air. It wasn't like anyone would expect him to be talking to the miniature man on his shoulder. They'd just assume he was on a Bluetooth headset with Gen or something. "Jensen got shrunk, same as you. Damn lucky no one stepped on the guy. The imp was kind enough to bury him under some papers on the ground. Thank god we had an idea what to expect after seeing Sam shrunk."  
  
"Poor bastard." Dean shook his head with a heart brimming with empathy. He and Jensen were really riding this out on two sides of the same coin.   
  
He resumed the tune he'd been humming, hitting every beat and note in perfect simulation of the song. Truth be told, Metallica's _Seek & Destroy_ was the only thing keeping him sane right now. That, along with the embedded need to protect the only family he had left. Dean was miserable. Being three inches tall... Even when they did find Sam, how could he do a damn thing? As selfish as it was, he found a part of himself wishing Sam had just stayed small. At least then Dean had more control; could keep him safe.  
  
 _Yeah, a real stand-up job you did there,_  a dark voice sneered in the back of his head yet again.  
  
Through the veil of Jared's hair, Dean watched a door swing open, and the massive trailers came into sight.   
  
"I know Sam. He's not gonna stay put for long." Dean said, his small, deep voice carrying perfectly to Jared's ear.   
  
Almost to the trailers, Jared paused for a heartbeat. What if they were gone? Or worse - what if the imp shrank Sam back down, leaving Jared to handle this on his own? He was an  _actor,_  for godsakes, not an actual hunter! All the wacky stuff on the TV was just for show. He'd never expected to be shoved into one of the storylines like this!  
  
Jared reached the door at last. "Cross your fingers," he muttered quietly to Dean as he pushed the door open. A second of silence passed before he realized his eyes were scrunched closed. He pried them open and peered into Jensen's trailer.  
  
Nothing.


	16. Chapter 16

Jensen leaned way back at the bottom of the pocket, angling his cell-phone up at the top of the pocket. A miniature flash lit up the pocket for a fleeting moment, capturing the view of the fabric walls arcing up over his head. It was out of pure habit that he pulled up Jared's number and opened up the long line of text messages between them.   
  
 _Pocket travel. Not a great view,_  he typed in.   
  
Incredibly, the microscopic phone was able to hold a decent signal. The text message sent with no problem whatsoever. Slipping the iPhone back into his jeans pocket, Jensen pulled himself to his feet, stretching up to pull the buttonhole down to his eye level.   
  
"Careful of Gina," he called up to Sam. "Ten-o-clock. Blonde, red shirt. She'll be messing with your hair for an hour if she gets ahold of you."   
  
He heard Sam rumble some sort of non-committal reply before veering to the right according to his instructions. The thud of the hunter's steps shook Jensen right to his core, threatening to jostle him back to the bottom of the pocket.   
  
"Right. Now the props warehouse is just past the catering tent," Jensen announced, starting to feel a burn in his throat.   
  
“Got it,” Sam replied, his voice much quieter to hopefully keep from drowning out Jensen. Even with the other man’s shouting, Sam could barely make out what he was saying past the hustle and bustle of everyday life on the set.  
  
He made sure to turn away from the woman Jensen indicated, thankful for the pointer. The last thing he wanted was anyone messing with his hair, especially with everything else going on. He sped up his pace, determined to get this all over with as soon as possible. Especially since Dean’s life was probably on the line with the imp after him. She’d only shown any interest in ‘protecting’ Sam from anything bad happening, with Dean she only seemed determined to piss him off or egg him on.  
  
Another woman walking along the pathway drew Sam’s eyes, since she seemed to be veering in his direction. They widened when he saw her face, beyond shocked at the sight.   
  
“ _Ruby?!_  "  
  
"Honey, you can keep making that joke, but don't expect me to keep laughing." Oblivious to Sam's horror, she sauntered up with a scarlet smile on her lips. Rising on her tiptoes, she wrapped an arm around his neck, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.   
  
Dread lurched within the shrunken actor as he watched the beautiful woman approach. It was impossible not to feel the wall of Sam's chest tense up, ready for a fight. This could so easily go from bad to worse as he remembered Sam’s experiences with the woman that wore that face in his own universe.   
  
"No, Sam wait!" Jensen aggressively hammered an open palm against Sam's chest. "It's not Ruby!  _Not_ Ruby!" The pocket lurched as Sam pulled away from the kiss. Jensen winced, praying dearly Gen hadn't heard him.   
  
The panic in Sam's posture wasn't faked by any means.  _Ruby, Ruby, how is this possible, how'd she find me?_  Jensen's words started to sink in, his tiny voice shouting up from the pocket. They were both lucky Ruby...  _not Ruby?_  hadn't pulled him into a hug. That could have smooshed the tiny actor without a chance of him escaping.   
  
"I, ah... I'm..." Sam couldn't manage to form a coherent thought with the appearance of his past demons resurfacing. It brought back to mind the demon blood, his betrayal of Dean, the freakin'  _apocalypse..._  all previously suppressed to the back of his mind.  
  
Ruby, or whoever the hell she was peered at him in confusion, looking him up and down. "Do you have your cell phone on? I could have  _sworn_  I just heard Jensen's voice yelling..."  
  
Thinking fast, Sam pulled out his cell. "Uh, yeah! Me and him were just talking... about stuff, you know... things on set and all that..."  
  
Jensen couldn't say a word. Couldn't move a muscle. Not with Gen half a foot away, her eye level right at Sam's chest. The tiny actor could only sit back and hope that Sam was truly as skilled a hunter as nearly a decade of episodes had made him out to be. At the very least, better than his acting abilities--  _Good Lord!_  He kept a hand flat on Sam's chest, ready to signal him again if anything changed. He rolled his eyes up to the lip of the pocket, warily eyeing the crack of light flooding in. Never had he felt more out of place, more exposed. A simple slip of fabric keeping him from discovery.  
  
Gen raised her eyebrows at the shut phone in Sam's hand. Whatever conflicting thoughts ran through her head were shaken off with a smile and a demure shrug.   
  
"Well, tell him he's got to share you," she said, reaching up to affectionately comb his hair back behind his ears, a natural movement. "I got us reservations at  _The Moor_  tonight for nine. Promise me we don't have to cancel another sitter."  
  
“That…” Sam was still off balance, thrown by the ghost of his past facing him down. “I, ah…” he didn’t even know what he was doing with his hands anymore, vaguely waving them around to keep distance between them. “Wonderful! That sounds wonderful!” he finally managed to blurt out, eyes wide at how loud it came out.  
  
He tried to ignore the curious glances he got from the crew scattered around the area. No one was surprised to see Ruby at all, so she must be a regular here. Jensen clearly knew her, and from the reaction of everyone around, she must be close to Jared. He slipped his phone into his pants again, hoping she hadn’t noticed there’d been no one on the line. Jensen’s tiny weight against his chest was motionless, waiting for Sam to move.  _Everyone_  seemed to be waiting for him.  
  
“S...so. I’ll be there,” Sam said, backing away. He gave her a half wave, hoping she’d get the idea. “You, ah, you won’t have to cancel another sitter.  _Promise._  Jensen will have to wait.”  
  
The Ruby look-alike raised her own hand to parody his awkward wave. She didn't move from her spot, watching him with a bemused expression as if she'd been expecting something more. He turned his back on her and let himself into a door marked  **PROP HOUSE: AUTHORIZED CAST AND CREW ONLY**. He didn't look back.   
  
"I told him to cut back on caffeine," Gen muttered, slipping back on her sunglasses and shouldering her purse more securely. "But does he listen to me? No."   
  


* * *

  
Jensen let out a halting sigh of relief as Sam shut the door behind them, shutting out the tumultuous sounds of the active set. The only footsteps around were Sam's rattling ones. They were alone, if only for a few minutes.  
  
"Hey," Jensen patted the wall-like chest roughly. "Sam."  
  
It still felt so strange to say that name. Even more so, get the man to answer to the fictitious name. The rumbling steps halted in reply to his shouts, and light flooded into the pocket soon after.   
  
"Give me a boost outta here." Jensen called up. He braced himself as Sam dug in a couple fingers bigger than his entire body and gently drew him out in the palm of his hand.   
  
Jensen swallowed a new wave of nausea at the paralyzing sight: a giant with his best friend's face, holding him in the palm of his hand under a face as big as an IMAX Screen. Sure, Jared had always been the taller one between them, but this was a whole other  _world_  of height difference. And he hated every second of it.   
  
"Shit, it's good to be outta there... Listen, that lady back there-- she's not a demon. She's just the actress who played one." Jensen explained, raising his eyebrows rather sternly at the giant hunter so he knew that he wasn't withholding the truth. At this ridiculous size, there wasn't much he could do to hold back a suspicious Sam Winchester. "Truth is, you're married to her. Or-- er, Jared is."  
  
Sam’s eyebrows almost climbed off his face. “ _Married_  her? I actually… Jared actually married Ruby?” He had a hard time wrapping his mind around that. Married… he couldn’t even imagine getting married these days after everything they’d been through. Jess had been his one chance at marital bliss in this life and with her gone, that chance was over. Hunting with Dean until the end was the only path he could see most days and he knew his brother felt the same with Lisa… Sam wished some days that he could point Dean towards her, give his brother the life he’d earned.  
  
Sam shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. “Can’t believe he married her…” he muttered, pushing it out of his mind as best he could. His eyes scanned the room around them, trying to find their end goal of a crystal ball for the damn imp so this would be over with once and for all. “You have any idea where I’m gonna find this crystal?” he asked the tiny man standing on his hand. Sam got a strain in his chest, knowing Dean could be going through the same thing or worse if they didn’t get it fixed, and _fast_.  
  
Jensen faltered momentarily, peering between the monstrous fingers. It took his eyes an extra few seconds to read the labels on the clear plastic boxes lining the tremendous shelves, like his brain was still reluctant to admit his reality was so warped right now.  
  
"Try down towards the end of that row,” he said. It was a shot in the dark, seeing as they hadn't used crystal balls in an episode for over a season. But his instinct proved right. In a crewman's hurried lettering, a faded label listed off a number of assorted items-- crystal balls included.  
  
Sam gingerly set him down on the shelf above. Jensen felt like he was standing on an open scaffolding more than a simple shelf, and safely pressed himself far back as he could. The entire structure shook as Sam pulled out the box and was finally rewarded for his efforts. Crystal balls of a variety of coloring and size lay in foam containers.   
  
While Sam took his pick of the lot, Jensen suddenly went rigid. His fair skin dropped a hue lighter as he very slowly glanced towards the corner of his eye. He couldn't see anything, but if the hair on the back of his neck was any indication, someone or something was certainly there. He whipped his head around, but saw only empty air. A whisper of a giggle floated taunting through the air. Jensen shuddered, his body tensed defensively as he glared all around him.   
  
Sam dug through the box, not noticing how tense Jensen had become. The box was full of all sorts of odds and ends that would be at home in that psychic town he and Dean had passed through a while back. He discarded a few of the crystal balls, expert eyes recognizing them for the fakes they were, but at last his hand landed on the real deal. The smooth crystal was cool to the touch under his fingers, sending a shock of ice through his arm.  
  
Dropping the box on the floor, Sam straightened. He tucked the crystal ball into his jacket as he did so, keeping it safe in a deep pocket. Holding a hand to the miniaturized actor, Sam gave him an optimistic smile. "All we need now is that incantation for the spell to trap her and to find Jared and Dean," he promised, feeling hopeful with the crystal ball tucked close to his body. Hopefully this would all be over before they managed to screw up the actors lives any more, and he and Dean would be back where they belonged, on the road in the Impala once more.  
  


* * *

  
Across the set, the director was having a fit about how his two lead actors had seemed to disappear into thin air. Security guards roamed the set, communicating brief messages through walkie talkies, communicating the men's basic descriptions.   
  
Jared's luck was running thin as he tried desperately to stay out of sight for a while longer. Dean couldn't see exactly where the guy was going. All he knew, was that those massive, massive movements were getting less careful. Any next jolt or shake could send him plummeting down hundreds of feet to a death that no amount of hunting training or preparedness could prevent.   
  
He lurched forward as Jared ducked around a corner. He was starting to taste that cheeseburger again. Dean cursed under his breath, glaring at Jared's ear and what he could vaguely see of his looming profile.   
  
"Hey!" Dean barked hoarsely. His fair, freckled face was a hue of sea-sick green. "Jared! You... you gotta slow down. This ain't a friggin' rodeo."  
  
Jared slipped further back in the corner. "I'm trying, alright? This isn't exactly easy on me, either. You ever have someone yelling at you in your ear?" A tiny bit of guilt rose up in him after he snapped, knowing it wasn't Dean's fault any of this was happening. But it wasn't Jared's either, and he was just trying to help.  
  
Now that he was out of sight, he dug his phone out to respond to the message he’d received earlier on.  _At least one of them has a head on his shoulders,_  Jared thought to himself, almost snorting at Dean's stubborn determination to stay out of his pockets. For a moment he wondered if Sam would even have put up with the hunter's shit or just stuck him in the pocket anyway. Wasn't like the hunter could put up much of a fight, at least.   
  
 _Where the hell are you two? I found Dean; we've been looking all over the place for you!_  
  
Clicking  **SEND**  Jared waited Jensen's response, almost desperate to find the others, and he was certain Dean felt the same.  
  
Dean leaned over, peering between the dark strands of hair while still keeping a death grip on the shirt collar. Riding on a giant's shoulder didn't give him the best view in the house, but he could make out a name past the steep slope that was Jared's chest-- it was that Jensen guy who had his face.   
  
Within seconds of the text message going out, the little fine print underneath changed from "delivered" to "seen.” And not long after that, to "-is typing.”  
  
The phone buzzed in Jared's hand:  _We got the crystal. Get to hair and makeup with copy of script ASAP._    
  
Dean couldn't help but grin proudly as he squinted down at the oversized screen. Sammy had come through. "That's my boy," he announced to himself.   
  
Jared tucked his phone away. "Looks like we've got a plan," he announced, grinning with the tiny hunter. "We might have a chance to get this mess taken care of before anyone catches sight of you or Jensen."  
  
He took a moment to peer around the corner. No one seemed to be searching for him that second, and everyone was intent on their own tasks, the majority of the PA's with their heads down to avoid being drafted for other work.  _Now's as good a time as any, I guess,_  he thought to himself.  
  
"Hang on, alright?" he said quietly down to the hunter on his shoulder.  
  
Once he was certain Dean was secure, Jared walked out from the hidden alcove, trying to go for a casual 'I'm absolutely  _not_  up to anything' stroll, he headed back to his trailer, the closest place he could guarantee a script without other people hanging around like on set.  
  
Dean buried his face into the side of Jared's collar, wishing every powerful step to be the last. He hated the damn plaid pattern of the huge shirt- it was identical to Sam's in every way. Hell, he was pretty sure he'd stolen this shirt from Sam once or twice over the years when all his stuff was dirty.   
  
The feeling of how  _wrong_  this was never left. Dean couldn't shake the idea that Jared shouldn't even exist, that he was an imposter of sorts. Couldn't wait to say "sayonara" and move on from this size-ridiculed nightmare.  
  
His complaints grew fewer as the ride drug on. It was like some rickety roller coaster from hell, with no safety restraints other than a shade of too-long hair and a oversized thread looped into his belt.   
  
The steps up and down the trailers were the worst- Jared was just as big as Sam, but with a sincere lack of a hunter's subtleness in his gait. Each slamming step made Dean clench his teeth painfully as he was lurched against Jared's neck.   
  
At long last, Jared slowed to a halt. Dean heard him fumble for a lock, the script rustling in his other hand. The lights in this room were only half on, but Dean could already sense they weren't quite alone. For the first time, he pushed Jared's hair out of the way behind the actor's ear. There, staring back at him from the other side of the cramped trailer, was his little brother. Dean's throat just about closed up just settling his eyes on him, and by the looks of it, Sam wasn't doing so hot either.   
  
But he was the eldest. It was his job to set the example of steadiness, even at two and half inches high. Dean pushed himself to his feet and cleared his throat to be the first to break the ice.   
  
"Heya, Sammy."  
  
"Dean..." Sam breathed, taking a few steps forward. Jensen was still standing in his hand, the fingers curled up around the actor protectively. "Thank god you're alright."  
  
He gingerly held Jensen out to Jared, allowing the actor to climb into his friend's hand before hesitantly reaching up to Dean, the tiny hunter standing on Jared's shoulder. "It has been  _way_  too long since I saw you," he finished, eyes shining a little more. Maybe this case would finally end now, with all of them back together. Finish off that imp bitch and make everyone the size they were supposed to be. His other hand tightened around the crystal ball he was gripping, knowing it was the last piece of the puzzle, fitting in perfectly with the script Jared had that contained the incantations.  
  
His hand stopped next to Dean, giving the tiny hunter the choice of either climbing in or being scooped up. Sam knew one thing, and that was that he didn't want to waste another second with Dean away from him, not with everything that had happened on this case so far.  
  
Dean chuckled, equal parts relieved and nervous. But god, was it damn good to see his face again. To see those big, dewy eyes of his and know for sure it was his brother looking back at him. The hand rose up next to him, making Dean feel embarrassed all over again at his lack of stature. But he wasted no time in untangling himself from Jared's collar and clambering onto Sam's hand. Just like Jared's hand, Sam's skin sank in a bit as Dean's boots pressed down, giving way to the point where every step had to be carefully weighed.   
  
"Don't get too sappy on me." Dean smirked up at Sam and gave the crease of his palm a rough pat. He was still pale and clammy from the nightmarish height, but he pushed past it, knowing Sam likely needed equal reassurance right now.  
  
Not even three inches tall in the younger man's hand, Dean visibly gave him a once-over. It seemed like Sam was catching a lucky break- no size quirks or injuries in sight.  
  
Spotting Dean's pale face, Sam tucked his hand against his chest, trying to keep the heights out of Dean's line of sight. He remembered a time the year before when Dean had been worried about staying on the fourth floor of a motel, and even though that had been brought on by ghost sickness, it was obviously a very real fear in the hunter, as hard as Dean might try to hide it. Right now, Dean was even higher up, with far less in between him and the ground. Sam could remember how high it had seemed to  _him_  when he'd been standing on Dean's hand not so long ago. He brushed a finger over Dean's head to reassure himself the hunter was alright.  
  
"Okay, so I think we have everything we need to get this reversed," Sam said, hefting the crystal ball in his other hand and gesturing at the script in Jared's hand. "All we need now is the imp and it's game time."  
  
Dean clapped his hands together, the first real spark of hope surging through his downsized body. "Let's do this!"  
  
Jared held up the script in his free hand, thumbing through the pages. It became obvious it was nearly impossible to do so with Jensen crouching in the center of his other hand. The two exchanged a nearly identical look, a passing grunt of acknowledgment from both men. With this unspoken permission, Jared moved over to gently set Jensen down on the seat of the black leather chair. Jensen gave it a weirded-out look, having sat in this chair countless times at the break of dawn. Jared stood up, but Jensen beckoned him back down to his level.  
  
"Lemme see that." Jensen urged, jutting his chin at the script. He stayed his ground as Jared flipped through to the proper page of dialogue. He turned his head left and right, angling himself to read the massive letters. Finally, he nodded.  
  
"Summoning is already in the first part," Jensen noted. "The uh,  _confinement_  comes next."  
  
Jared nodded, his mouth dry as he watched Sam set down crystal in the middle of the small space. "You think, all these years...." He glanced slowly to look at the tiny, familiar face below him. "You think they've been giving us the real deal with these incantations?"  
  
Jensen made a tiny noise of exasperation and shrugged. "Well, I think we pre-exorcised about a hundred poor saps if that's the case." He looked at the script and squared his shoulders. He already knew the words quite well from his read-throughs. And he was damn ready for his life to go back to normal. With a final look way up at the impossible doubles found in Sam and Dean Winchester, Jensen took a breath and started to recite.  
  
" _Regala, incitus pertus... ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum... Lianda porus me."_  Jensen finished and swiveled around, as if expecting to find the imp waiting directly behind him. With narrowed eyes, he surveyed the room. "Should I go for take two?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
The room was silent after his words, everyone waiting with bated breath. Sam shifted uncertainly, peering around every corner. _Maybe she's just hiding from us..._  he thought uncertainly.  
  
 _Sam... I thought we really had something here. I'm disappointed._  
  
Stiffening, Sam twisted around, finding the tiny girl floating directly behind him. Little, iridescent wings rippled into existence, keeping her aloft in the air. She gave a dark smile at them, fluttering into motion. The next thing they knew, she had knocked the script from Jared's hands, sending him on his hands and knees to grab it back.  
  
She landed next to Jensen, eyeing up Dean's doppelganger with an intrigued eye while Jared climbed back to his feet. "You think you're gonna stop  _me?_  Please, I thought you boys would at least come up with a  _challenge_  for me!"  
  
Though pallid with utter shock, Jensen managed to clear his head enough to aim a powerful blow to the side of her head. The imp nimbly ducked, making it look irritatingly easy. Jensen eyed her up, circling a bit to the left cautiously before making his next move. He wasn't entirely sure whether kicks and punches would hurt the demon girl at all, but she was there in the flesh, the perfect size to pin down. He may not have been able to do much, but getting his life back was worth fighting for.   
  
"Come on, big boy,” she taunted, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing. Jensen clenched his jaw and lunged- his next blow hit her squarely on the cheek. It was like hitting a sponge-coated cement wall. The imp did not so much as flinch, though she pouted at him disagreeably.   
  
"Rude."  Even as the giants moved behind them, the imp's speed and strength were in line with her demon kin. She gripped Jensen's collar with both hands and chucked him over the side of the chair.   
  
Jared caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. Horrified words couldn't even make it out of his throat. Abandoning the script, he dove with both hands outstretched to catch his friend. The crystal ball rolled into the shadow of the next chair.  
  
Even as Jared caught Jensen at the last second, thudding heavily to the ground, Sam dove for the crystal ball, cupping Dean against his chest for safety. He scooped it up, desperately backing away from the tiny girl that rippled into view in front of him. She dove for the ball, slicing at his hand with her tail. He gripped it tighter, determined not to let her win. His brother and Jensen were counting on them...  
  
Jared scrambled to his feet, Jensen and script safely back in hand. He shared a glance with Sam and started the second incantation, the one that would trap the imp in the crystal ball, hopefully forever. Oddly familiar words rolled off his tongue, adjusted to it after years of pretending to be the man in front of him.  
  
The sphere began to glow a faint red, gathering its own magical sheen. Reflections shot out among the room, making it all seem to shimmer. A loud ringing noise echoed in Sam's ears. "See if you can change them back to size!" he tried to shout over the roar, letting a disoriented Dean slide off his hand.  
  
Jared's words changed, focusing on the two smaller men in the room. The red reflections concentrated on Dean and Jensen, making their small forms almost burn with an internal light. Sam backed away right as the other two shot up in size, returning to their former height. The ball of tension in his chest started to unwind for the first time in days.   
  
Wind whipped through the room, twisting Sam's hair into a mess.  _You know, it was never going to be that easy,_  said a voice in his head.  
  
Sam felt himself shrink inside at the menace directed at him.  _No, not possible, you're trapped..._  
  
 _Maybe you should have handled the latin yourself, big boy. This is gonna be fun. Your big brother can't do anything to save you now..._  
  
The red shattered on Dean and Jensen, both full sized, then all the beams hit Sam at once. The world wavered.... then started to grow.  
  
He was shrinking.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean blearily cracked his eyes open. The world was sideways and glimmering with red flashes on the wall and carpet... But it was normal.  _Normal!_  A huge knot evaporated from his gut, the relief hitting him like a tidal wave. He watched Jensen untangled himself from Jared on the other side of the crystal ball. It was surreal as ever, but a comfort. It was like a mirror image confirmation that he was really six foot one again. With him and Jensen restored, everything was the way it started.   
  
Everyone was fixed.    
  
Now the imp's true size was evident: no more than three inches tall, she was plastered to the outside of the radiating crystal, arms and legs spread at her sides. She wasn't trapped within, but she had the stiff look of being telekinetically pinned down-- something Dean had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. And yet, she was  _beaming_. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter.   
  
"I don't know what you're smiling about. You're not going anywhere," Dean sneered, pushing himself off the carpet.   
  
The imp giggled, raising her eyebrows at him. "Who says I want to leave? Then I'd miss the best part of the night. The show  _must_ go on." Her blue eyes drifted behind him, flickering to black.   
  
Dean spun around, only halfway to his feet. His eyes sank lower and lower, locking with horror to a miniature Sam Winchester standing only two feet high. And he was still shrinking. It was a horrible rate to shrink at, too. Not too quick to cope with, but just slow enough that Dean could literally watch his little brother slip further away from him with every passing second. For a split second, they just stared at each other, each watching with a morbid fixation as the other transformed before their eyes. Sam passed the one foot mark, his descent not slowing down even as he sought strategic ground within his brother's ever-enveloping shadow.   
  
"No," Dean rasped. "No, no,  _no_ \-- fuck me, where's the script?"   
  
"I've got it! Sam, hang on-"   
  
Jared's voice was cut short, like a cassette tape being snipped mid-play. Dean shot a look over his shoulder to see Jared and Jensen frozen in place. Jared was reaching for the script. Jensen was gaping at Sam in fear with wide green eyes that Dean felt oddly possessive of. The entire room seemed to desaturate and blur. Like everything but Sam and Dean had been paused permanently. No doubt the imp's doing... which meant something had gone wrong. She was still freely flaunting the powers that should have been restrained.   
  
Snatching the script away from Jared's reaching hand, Dean flipped through the pages for the Latin incantation.   
  
"Oh shit," he breathed, closing the space back to the other side of the trailer in three big steps... Where Sam was now barely noticeable at a dwindling four inches. Dean scooped him up into his hand hastily, cradling him possessively as he repeated the spell.   
  
" _Omnipote, regala, en nimbus me..._ " Dean announced boldly. He glanced down at Sam and nearly lost it-- the love line of Dean's calloused palm now treated his barely inch and a half brother like a fleshy hammock.   
  
Ever distracted by the diminishing body in his palm. Dean forced out every word, knowing nothing less than perfection would do.  


* * *

  
The hardest part was how  _slow_  the shrinking happened.  
  
When Sam had initially changed size, he'd been asleep. He had no idea how fast he or the Impala had shrank down, so to him it had been instantaneous. Considering the way he'd shot back to size just as quick, he doubted it had been a slow process.  
  
This time, the imp was toying with them. The world ballooned around Sam, the frozen Jared and Jensen becoming matching monoliths. Dean's footsteps crashed nearby, calling Sam's attention to the panicked hunter that swept him up into a careful palm. Sam could almost recognize the moment he hit two and a half inches again, as his world seemed to normalize. A strange normal, but one he’d adjusted to for a time.  
  
Dean's voice echoed loudly overhead, trying to spit out the spell in its entirety before Sam lost even more height.  
  
Unfortunately, the shrinking didn't stop there. Sam clutched at one of the fingers towering above him, real fear showing through as his own increasingly small fingers sank into the wrinkles in Dean's skin. The hand became his world, the rest of Dean too large to comprehend as a single living being. Dean's finger twitched, in nerves or maybe because Sam's hands tickled it, and he was tossed to the ground, his fall cushioned by the spongy skin.  
  
Sam scrambled up to his knees, staring up at what he could see of Dean in awe. The huge voice changing the invocation had become the rumbles of thunder overhead, the words lost to Sam's ears. He was less than an inch tall... then he approached a centimeter in length. If he got stuck like this, he wouldn't ever be able to talk to Dean again. He was a bug, his tiny arms and legs as thin as needles while Dean was the size of a mountain.  
  
Sam squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the terrifying sight in front of him. He said a silent prayer, holding his breath.  
  
Then, everything stopped.  


* * *

  
The spell was complete. Dean raised his frantic gaze: wind whipped around the room as the tiny demon was pulled against her will into the crystal. Sam was a mere crumb in his palm now, and Dean cupped both hands in horror around the precious dark spot that was his little brother. He couldn't even see if Sam was moving at this point. Nor could he feel him.   
  
It was like Sam wasn’t even there anymore.  
  
With a final anguished gasp, the imp became trapped within the crystal ball. The wind dropped away. Extending his free hand, Dean seized the crystal and glared at its occupant.   
  
"Fix him," Dean demanded, keeping his fury reserved to a whispered volume purely for Sam's sake. "Do it,  _now!_ "   
  
The tiny black eyes glaring back at him within seemed to consume his entire vision. She was saying something, but blessedly, her voice was muted by the new walls of her crystal prison.   
  
The world around him went dark, like a movie scene fading to black. Jared and Jensen vaporized into the pitch dark. The trailer vanished into a new plane of existence. Dean blinked- a new warmth crept in the corners of his vision. Warm, orange light from a bedside lamp. It took him a moment to recognize the new surroundings. The motel room. They were back in their motel room, in their own screwy universe.   
  
He immediately looked for Sam in his hand.   
  
The dark speck was gone.   
  
Dean's heart dropped to his shoes. "Sam?" he whispered. He brought his hand right up to his eyes, analyzing all the lines and groves of his palm for the little speck of a person. An awful thought made his blood turn to ice.  _Maybe I wasn't fast enough. Maybe he's still there... and I can't even see him now._    
  
Clenching the crystal furiously, he shook the imp within as he brought her higher to shout a new order. He stopped short when he heard a familiar, sleepy groan come from around the side of the bed. Inspired with a new hope, Dean leapt to his feet. A pair of slip-on boots were sticking out from the narrow space between the queen beds. And beyond that, long, denim clad legs...  
  
A rush of wind was in his ears. Sam groaned, feebly making sure his arms and legs were still in one piece. The last image from before he'd been knocked to the ground flashed through his mind - an image of a desert stretching away from him, fleshy dunes rising in the distance and deep cracks he could slip into if he wasn't careful.  
  
Dean's palm.  
  
The rest of the hunter hadn't even been in sight anymore at that point, his flannel shirt in the distance just a blurry wall of color. Fingers arching over Sam's head cast deep shadows he could be lost in, columns almost the size of mountains that moved on their own from time to time. Dean could be careful all he wanted, but a single move on his part could  _kill_  Sam, sending him flying into the air or crushing him without noticing.  
  
There was no movement around him. Shoving himself up, Sam took in a deep breath, opening his eyes. They widened at what he saw. Beds, nightstand, pictures on the wall... a regular,  _normal_ -sized motel room. He twisted around, searching out the person he knew would be there with him.   
  
Green eyes met hazel. Sam's breath left him in a rush. He was normal.  _Dean_  was normal.  
  
"Dean."  
  
Sam had barely gotten the words out before Dean's knees thunked to the floor. The imp, encased in crystal, was dropped to the side and rolled away a few inches from impact.   
  
Sam's eyes were still wide with shock as Dean swept him up into a bone-breaking hug. After a moment, the shock wore off and Dean felt Sam return the warm gesture. His fingers dug into the canvas of Sam's jacket, feeling how solid and real his little brother was. The way he was supposed to be. No tricks this time.   
  
"Never thought I'd be glad to be looking up at you, Sasquatch," Dean scoffed out a disbelieving chuckle.  
  
"I know what you mean," Sam choked out, gripping Dean back. "I don't think I'm a fan of being the short one."  
  
He pulled away from Dean, staring around the room in surprise. Everything was just as they'd left it before heading out to the library before being hurled in that twisted dimensional reflection of theirs. Actors... their lives a TV show... "Strange lives," Sam said, almost to himself.  
  
His eyes landed on the Impala, left alone on the bed. "Holy crap," Sam said, pulling away from Dean to stand up. "That's... that's how small the car is?" Funny to think he'd been  _driving_  her that size, racing around Dean's feet. He went over to the car, hovering a hand over it to compare sizes. The Impala didn't reach from the bottom of his palm to the tip of his fingers. She was  _that_  small. He could almost understand how Dean had nearly stepped on them without noticing.  
  
Sam glanced back up at Dean. "You, ah... you know how to fix this?" he asked. He'd missed the end of the fight when he'd returned to normal. He hadn't even been able to hear the words being spoken by then, too small to understand what was being said far overhead.  
  
Dean glanced down at the floor, snatching up the crystal orb. He twisted it around to get a look at the tiny demon encased within.   
  
"I think she's bound to follow orders now." he said, peering in. It was a chilling sight within, having those tiny black eyes glued to him with such immovable hatred. The only thing between him and whatever world of demented size-play the imp favored was a few inches of crystal and a few words of Latin. Even despite that humbling fact, Dean smirked.   
  
"Not laughing now, are you, bitch?"   
  
He moved to hold her out pointedly at his shrunken car, then faltered. "Uh... maybe we should take her outside."  
  
With the Impala in one hand and the imp in the other, the brothers strolled around to the back of the motel. The parking lot was, if possible, even more vacant than it had been in the evening. Dean could have laughed-- all the shit they had been through, and it was barely sunset.   
  
The toy-sized car was set down a far distance upon the asphalt, adjusted to make room for the full-sized vehicle. Dean glanced to Sam briefly out of the corner of his eye, still amazed that this relief wasn't temporary.   
  
"Alright," he said, glaring in at the imp. "Fix my damn car."  
  
Sam watched as the crystal sphere glowed a bright red. This time, instead of concentrating its fury on him, the red shards of light converged on the tiny Impala he'd been shrunk down with. Wind whipped around the brothers as the car seemed to implode in size, shooting up from a bare seven inches to all eighteen feet of black and silver glory. As the evening sun set on the horizon, the Impala's lights seemed to flicker at them, letting them know she was okay at last.  
  
Letting out a sigh of relief, Sam turned to Dean. Then frowned. If he remembered right... "You... might want to have her fix your duffel bag. I think it's still in your pocket, downsized." Sam smirked. "Can't have those Busty Asian Beauties too small to read, now, can we?"  
  
Dean gave a small start, reaching up with his free hand to pat his pocket. Sure enough, a little lump stuck out at him. "I forgot it was there," he mumbled, a bit sheepish in the admission. He had a feeling Sam might still be a little sore about the whole "too small to feel" thing. But that would be remedied soon, he hoped.   
  
He reached in, fumbling to slip his index finger through the loops of the duffle bag straps to pull it out. He dangled it before his eyes, taking a long look at the last remnant of the bizarre adventure. It was just so tiny- barely an inch and a half long, at best. And to think Sam had barely been a few times that size...  
  
Shaking his head, Dean set down the duffle bag on the hood of the Impala, where it landed with a delicate clink of metal and clothes.   
  
The Impala's glossy exterior reflected the bright cherry red beams that came in the aftermath of Dean's final order. Less than the span of a blink, and the duffel bag was back to its normal size. Dean handed off the imp to Sam so he could ruffle through its contents. He pulled out his stash of skin mags at the bottom, under his clothes and boxes of ammo. He grinned in relief. The glossy pages were unharmed.  
  
"Alright, I think that's everything." Dean zipped up his worldly belongings and slung the bag on his shoulder. His green eyes trained upon the imp, no shame in hiding his satisfaction upon seeing her dwarfed by Sam for once.   
  
"Shame that script didn't have a line on how to kill her," Dean muttered. It seemed like no revenge he imagined could be near enough to match the terror of nearly crushing or eating his own brother.   
  
Sam held the crystal up to the fading sun, letting it reflect the light into a thousand shards. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing.”  
  
He hastened to explain himself before Dean complained he was being too easy on her. “As far as we can tell, she’s immortal. So her being trapped in this crystal means she’s been imprisoned… forever.” He lowered it, closing his hand tight around the imp as he remembered what she’d done to him over the last few days. Treated like a toy, food, almost getting stepped on...   
  
“She has an eternity to think about what she did and how she got trapped. You might say that’s worse than death, in a way. Especially  _this_  kind of demon. Imps gravitate towards ‘playmates,’ which is what she tried to turn me, and later you and Jensen, into. Now she has no one to talk to, nowhere to go, nothing to do but remain imprisoned,  _forever_.” Sam nodded sharply. “A fate  _worse_  than death.”  
  
He tossed the crystal ball into the air with a casual flick of the wrist, catching it at the last second. “So, you think Bobby has a place to stash her away?”  
  
"If anyone does, it's him," Dean remarked, giving Sam a slight nod of approval at last. He had to give his little brother credit- it wasn't a half-bad idea. Whoever said revenge didn't taste sweet had the wrong approach to the whole concept.   
  
He shouldered his duffle bag and Sam tossed him the car keys, which Dean caught eagerly. A day and a half without driving his baby-- that was flat out  _criminal_. He slid a calloused hand along the glossy driver's side, all the way to the silvery handle. He popped open the door and slid inside. His bag was tossed to the backseat while he ran his hands over the steering wheel lovingly. Dean thought a dozen apologies at his car for nearly stepping on it, turning the keys in the ignition.  
  
A familiar rumble sounded out as the engine purred in greeting. He was forgiven.  
  
With that straightened out, Dean found reason to smile again.  He leaned towards the windshield, looking impatiently at his little brother outside.  
  
"Hop in, short-stop."

**Author's Note:**

> Today I bring my first co-written fic! This is not associated with Brothers Apart and will be updating at some point on Thursdays. Taken and the other parts of BA will continue to update Fridays in the A.M. 
> 
> Enjoy the ride! This one's gonna get bumpy!


End file.
